Lyrium lines
by SarahLunaaa
Summary: The story of Dragon age 2 with my own twist. Fenris has secrets and a dark past, little does he know Hawke does too. My own twist on Hawke and the story of dragon age 2, I will stray off a bit etc. This story will be rated M, as it contains rape scenes, torture and sex. Has a bit of Carver/Merril. This is the story of the champion, but with my own embellishment!
1. Chapter one

Chapter one- Starting again.

Soooo! Hi guys, basically with the new Dragon Age game coming out I've recently been going back to the two other games and making sure I get the perfect story and looking around at rumours etc. from the new game. What made me sad is there is no mention of a certain Tevinter elf? What. On. Earth!? But anyways, I'm going into my usual rants. Please, message me if you see a grammar mistake and I'll change it as soon as possible. I just thought I should tell everyone beforehand I am dyslexic. I thought I'd add some of my own things into the story just to give a lot more character depth and even more story to Hawke! Of course Fenris too! And I've started just after Hawke met Varric! :3

I would like to thank Enchantm3nt for being so amazing and helping me with all of this!

BIOWARE OWNS ALL.

Reviews are welcome!

_The distorted colours of the fallen leaves beneath her feet told her she was dreaming; everything had an odd hue to it and there was only silence where there should be bird song and the rustle of leaves. She looked around, her eyes searching, she was alone and yet she felt like she was being watched. Her eyes travelled up the gnarled trunk of a tree to the twisting branches above, the sky was the odd greenish hue that the Fade always was, lit by an unnatural dim light. _

_A shiver ran down her spine and she froze; her eyes moved down and locked onto the dark green ones of a great wolf. Its coat was a dark grey, the colour of storm clouds but it was covered in the most beautiful sinuous white markings. She cocked her head to the side, discerning if it was a demon or not, she rather thought it wasn't. She took a cautious step toward it and the wolf bolted. Curiosity got the better of her and she gave chase, sprinting through the trees, ducking under branches and leaping over fallen logs. The wolf kicked up leaves and mud as it charged through the dense woodland, and then suddenly, the trees cleared and they were on a grassy bank, a cliff just beyond. The wolf's strange white markings were glowing fiercely; it looked over its shoulder, glancing at her with its dark green eyes before it jumped off of the cliff. A gasp escaped her mouth and she found herself following after it, not really knowing why. _

Hawke woke up covered in sweat, lying on the very edge of her cot, with her hands grasping her tightly. She slowly sat up, breathing deeply. She often had dreams so that wasn't surprising. But she'd never had one about a mysterious wolf with strange markings, and she'd certainly never taken her own life in one before.

Light streamed in through the small window so she forced herself up and out of the cot. She headed over to her basin, tying back her long blonde strands as she looked at herself in the mirror. She checked the edges of her green eyes, making sure no wrinkles lined the edges. She ruffled her fringe, pulling out the red streak she was rather fond of and then got dressed.

She heard the muffled groans of her brother, Carver behind her as he stirred from sleep. He cursed quietly, obviously annoyed she had woken him as he rolled out of his cot and joined her at the basin to get ready for the day.

"We're no longer smugglers, sister, we don't have to be up at this hour anymore," Carver sighed as he licked his hand and flattened down an errant strand of his jet black hair.

"Well, we need to be _something_ or we won't be able to live in Lowtown for much longer," she replied, grabbing her armour.

"We cannot draw too much attention to ourselves either," Carver grumbled. "The Templars here are stupid, but the people are not. They are starving and won't blink an eye at handing over a Fereldan apostate if it means their family is fed," he said, a stern look on his face as he peered at her through the slightly cracked mirror.

"Yes, but I'm not a mage, I'm a loveable rogue." She grinned. "In one hand I hold dexterity and in the other cunning!" Hawke laughed, winking at her brother.

Carver swirled round to face her, his eyebrow raised and a sceptical grin on his face. "And in your third a fireball? And in the fourth ice? Perhaps father forgot to cover human anatomy with you but you only have _two_ hands, dear sister."

Hawke did not find the comment about father funny, nor did she enjoy the lecture from her little brother, who just the night before had tried to sneak into the Blooming Rose, a well-known brothel in Hightown with not a penny in his pocket. The money he did have he had spent on cheap ale with Varric; he had gotten so drunk that he had thought heading to the Rose was a marvellous idea. According to Varric, he had been kicked out within four minutes of arriving. "If we make a name for ourselves, the Templars won't bother me, and you could maybe afford to lose your virginity in the Blooming Rose like you wanted to so badly," she snapped back, revealing the knowledge she had gained from Varric about last night's events.

Her brother's face paled and then turned a bright red, his hands gripped the basin and in a small voice he pleaded, "Don't tell mama, please Aria."

She laughed. "Not this time, but maybe I could put it on my list of _things to bribe Carver with_ if he tries getting high and mighty with me?" She smirked as he glared at her. "Hurry up, it's time for breakfast and then it'll be time to meet Varric!"

She walked out of the bedroom and into the small decrepit room of her uncle's house that served as a dining room and a living room and a kitchen all in one. There was literally no room to swing a cat, never mind having her mother, brother, uncle and her dog living in the same small space with her.

Mother's mug was on the table, steam still rising from it. It was actually father's mug, it was one of the few things mother had been able to grab in time when they fled their home. Just seeing it sat on the table as the fruity scent of tea filled her nose, was enough to remind her of him. _Had it really been seven years since he died?_

She could still remember him perfectly. His dark hair, thick and slightly curled at the edges around his face, his thick beard that scratched against her skin when he kissed her good night and his bright smile and booming laugh. She'd always been close with him due to the magic they shared.

He had taught her to embrace her magic, to love it and revel in the wonders of it. But he had also taught her to hide it from a world that did not understand it, a world that feared it. Her father had been running from those who feared it all his life. He had never been caught since his escape, until that night.

She knew little of what happened. It had been a normal day, she had been with him much of the afternoon as part of their usual lessons, studying the lore of magic. That night, her father had gone into the woods and had not come back. She had waited up until her eyes wouldn't stay open, waiting for him. She had drifted into the Fade for the first time in her life and her father had come to her, rushing to her side, panic in his eyes.

"Go outside, Aria. You must go outside!" he had almost shouted at her and before she could say more he had keeled over and vanished from the Fade.

She had jumped out of her bed in her nightgown and screamed for her mother to follow her as she ran outside.

She ran past the farms and over the bridge to the edge of the woods, her feet seemingly knowing where to go. Her mother had not followed her and had instead stayed behind with the two younger Hawke children. Hawke had found her father slumped against a tree, blood pouring from his side and his face scrunched up in agony. She had tried to help him up but she could not.

He had clutched her hand and stared into her eyes. "You will _never_ be alone, my brave girl."

Her mother had caught up with her along with their neighbour, Old Barlin, who had known about the Hawke family and their secret for many years. He had looked at Malcolm Hawke's wound for not even a second before speaking. "He was shot with an arrow, one laced with Magebane."

Her mother had hoisted her father up with the aid of Old Barlin, and had dragged him home into their bed. She had cleaned his wound, and Hawke had helped her.

Old Barlin had looked at them sympathetically. "He has an hour at the most. It's poisoning his blood, making the lyrium kill him from the inside. It's illegal to have such a herb."

But her father had not died within an hour.. It had taken four days for the magebane to destroy her father completely. She had read tomes to him, pretending that they were studying magic lore and that he had just been overcome with a slight illness. The twins had not understood, they had thought their father was just sick. On the third day, he had started to become erratic, screaming terrible things: that he needed to run, that he wanted his mama and that she should not have been made tranquil just for loving another mage. He had screamed most of the day of how it was his fault and had only calmed down when their mother had come back from farming the land, to sing a lullaby to him. He had been instantly mesmerised and calmed by her soulful voice; he had smiled and said to her that she was beautiful.

On the fourth day, he had been still and quiet. His skin had been an off-grey, and he had slept for most of it. She had still pulled out her book and read to him. She had begun on a new book and was about to read about the lore of fire magic to him, when he grabbed her hand.

"I won't last much longer. They were coming for you, so I told them it was I that they sought. I love you very much, Aria. You have always made me so proud, and I bet you anything that you will make me prouder. Take care of them for me," he had whispered in a croaky voice.

She had kissed his hand and had tried to smile at her father, just to make sure his last days were not full of sadness and despair. She had gotten up to get her mother to come watch over him but her father's hand did not let her go. She had turned around and seen her father's green eyes staring at her. And yet they had not been his eyes anymore. They had become milky and were not truly looking at her. She had keeled over in shock and sobbed loudly, waking the entire house.

Hawke grabbed the pitcher of water, and poured it into a glass that was already set out for her. Her mother had always gotten up earlier than them so she could make them breakfast. But thinking about her father had brought on another flashback and it had made her almost choke on her water as she attempted to take a sip.

_She remembered the pain, she let out one hollowed scream as her jet black hair lost every inch of its darkness as if her scream had turned it a dazzling white. _

Hawke blinked and continued drinking, waiting for her sibling and her breakfast.

Leandra Hawke walked in to the small dingy room and lit the fire, Hawke looked at her mother; she was old now. Her hair was grey and the poverty they had to live in was making her look so much worse. And yet her mother carried on, she did not complain about her life and she cleaned up after them all with not a word or a complaint.

"Eggs for breakfast, Aria?" she chimed, already cracking the eggs into a pan over the pathetic excuse for an oven that Gamlen had.

"Sure thing, mama. Carver will be out soon too," she replied, noticing her mother eyeing their bedroom door.

"I thought your brother would be sleeping for the rest of the day after getting in so late last night," she said sternly but with a hint of amusement.

Her mother turned to look at her with a questioning look; she knew that her mother wanted all the details but she promised Carver she would not tell her.

"Oh yeah, he stayed behind and tried to outdrink Varric when me and Aveline left for home," she lied as her mother passed her a slice of bread and her scrambled eggs.

"Well, next time bring him home with you, I worry he's going to do something stupid," her mother pleaded light hearteningly, although Hawke detected that it had a note of seriousness to it.

"Most of the time I have to drag Aria home, mama, and you never complain to her!" Carver retorted as he stolled out of the bedroom and took the plate of food his mother offered him.

Hawke laughed as she watched her brother dig into the food with the same technique as her mabari, Spike did.

"So children, what are you going to be doing today? Actually, don't tell me, my hair will go more grey and I don't have the gold for hair dye these days." Her mother chuckled.

"Not much really Mother, just seeing a few contacts. We need to raise some money to get to the deep roads. Varric says that there is a dwarf looking for someone to find his lost cargo and it will be easy coin. Other than that, we can see where the day takes us!"

And with that, the two siblings grabbed their weapons and other supplies and headed out to the Hanged Man to meet their dwarven friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two.

Isabela.

She perched on the rickety bar stool, her elbows resting on the sticky surface of the bar, a pitcher of whisky between her hands – her only friend. Well, she thought noticing all the men staring at her bronze thighs and her breasts almost popping out of her white top, her only _real_ friend. She smiled at the men watching her and decided to give them a little of what they wanted; she lifted her leg up high to tie her boot strap. Maker, she loved it when they drooled.

The door swung open and in one quick moment all of the men were either looking down at their drinks or staring at the new arrival. Isabela's stomach dropped. She desperately needed a pick me up after the terrible week she had been having.

Worry ate away at her, if Castillon didn't know yet, he soon would. She had lost her ship, her crew and the relic that she had tracked down and stolen for him. In other words, she was neck deep in shit.

She looked up from her drink and saw that most of the men in the tavern were staring at the woman that had entered just moments ago. The new arrival was gorgeous. Isabela had always been hot and fun but this other rogue was at the other end of the spectrum.

.

She had long white hair, the complete opposite to Isabella's chocolate curls that she had carelessly tied into her bandana. Where Isabela was sun kissed and curvy the other rogue's skin was as white as snow, and she had pretty red lips and green eyes that looked around the room skittishly, eyeing out trouble. She was elegant and there was an air of beauty to her that made Isabela, for the first time in her life, have low self-esteem. She was dirty from not washing for five days, her clothes were ragged and her hair was wrecked from her being in the ocean for too long.

But it was not just the rogue that had caught her eye; it was the man next to her that stood so close that it was as if he was protecting her from the air itself. _Were they lovers_? No, she thought as she compared the two carefully, noticing the same eyebrows and the same skittish look on their faces. Siblings.

Maker, her brother was a dish too; she smiled as the rogue walked up to the bar where she sat.

"Hello, I've not seen you in here before. Beware of the men here; you're nothing but tits and ass to them," Isabella chimed as she introduced herself.

She looked at the woman, who stared up at her with one eyebrow raised, noticing the freshly sharpened daggers at her back. She looked like she could handle herself, yet it wasn't the daggers that made Isabella think this, it was something she could taste in the woman's presence. A building aura, something was hiding beneath those daggers. Someone likeHer would be mighty handy in a fight against Haydar.

"Well, don't mind me if I don't take that warning seriously from a woman that has both on display." She smiled and then glanced at her brother. "Put your tongue away brother," she scolded lightly.

Isabela smirked, winking at the chagrined man before turning back to the woman. "You look like someone I could trust to watch my back. I have a problem, you see." Isabella started to say but the woman's brother let out a very loud snort.

"Why is it problems always seek us out?"

The woman smiled at this, a full toothy grin. "Go on," She urged, permitting Isabella to continue.

"Someone has been bothering me for a while now. I want to have a duel with him but I don't trust him to play by the rules. I think he's going to be surrounded by friends so I want to bring some of my own," Isabela explained, watching the other rogue intently.

The woman did not change her facial expression throughout her explanation. When she stopped talking, she eyed the woman who seemed for a moment lost in thought and then after what felt like hours the woman grinned.

"Who's this person you've arranged to meet?" she asked, a coy grin on her face.

Isabela finally let out a breath of relief.

"His name is Hayder; we worked together back in Antiva. He's never liked me. He's been asking for me all around Kirkwall, thought I'd get it over with," Isabela replied, watching the woman's facial expression again.

"And why does he want to hurt you so badly? Did you tell him he was nothing but tits and ass too?" she joked, trying to act like this wasn't an interrogation but Isabela could tell whatever she said next was vital to the woman helping her.

"I've been trying to track down something I lost for a previous employer, and I failed to do it. It doesn't matter right now, this is much more important," she said, trying to change the subject away from the topic of the relic.

The woman eyed her for a moment, her eyebrow raised as if she wanted to know more of the story. But Isabela kept her mouth shut; the less the woman knew the better.

"I suppose I could manage watching your back, and if we have anything to fight along the way, we get first call on the valuables," the woman said, winking at Isabella.

"I think that sounds like a deal. My name is Isabela," she said with a coy curtsey, showing off her bosom to the woman's boy went bright red, much to her delight.

"I am Hawke and this is my brother, Carver. When do you plan to confront this dear friend of yours?" Hawke asked, her tone becoming business-like.

"My contacts telling me he is meeting with his informant tonight at the chantry, if you meet me here just after dusk we can get on with it and maybe after I can get on you," Isabela joked. Well it was a half-joke she thought, looking at the pretty young rogue's flawless pale skin and strange coloured hair.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but I don't tend to go for the ladies, my brother swings that way or at least tries to." Hawke chortled.

The younger Hawke sibling grunted at this and rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushed pink. He wasn't too bad to look at either, thought Isabela.

"Hawke? I could have gone and got Andraste's ashes and been back by now, you nug humper!" a voice from the top of the stairs shouted at her.

Isabela turned towards the voice and saw a dwarf with no beard but a lot of chest hair standing at the top of the stairs. Maker, did she like chest hair on a man!

"I'll see you tonight, Isabela," Hawke said politely and walked up the stairs to where the dwarf had called her.

Isabela could feel it in her pirate bones; the rogue she had just met would bring excitement into life. One way or another.


	3. Chapter 3

Hiya guys, sorry I am dragging the meeting of the characters out here. I know, I know! Bad Luna! But honestly please just tell me what you guys want, and as long as it keeps in with the story then of course your wish is my command! I thought I'd round up a few introductions or the start of them in this chapter. People always seem to run to Hawke for help whilst she's working other jobs! I am really relying on spell checker but I am trying not to do so terrible with my spelling! This is rather short, it's basically just a bit of Varric!

Chapter three

The start of introductions

"Sorry my dear, dear dwarf. I got distracted by another offer of work! I came in with the pure intentions of buying a pitcher of varren piss and bringing it straight to your humble abode when I was ambushed by a woman wearing nothing but a table cloth!" Hawke said dramatically, making Varric chuckle at his new friend's humour.

He took a look at rivaini woman at the bar and just nodded in agreement. "Table cloth indeed! More coin to save for this blighted expedition however! So, what is on the agenda today?" Varric asked.

Life had certainly become more interesting with Hawke about. And he'd only known her a week. He smiled at the thought of what could happen in a few months if he just stayed by this loveable rogue. He'd already found out her biggest secret within days of meeting her. They'd hit it off like a house on fire and she had told him, making him promise never to tell a living soul. Junior hadn't been impressed, but she had insisted on telling him as they were going to be business partners, so he had the right to know the truth about her. Varric also knew that Hawke would sooner die than use her abilities, not that she would ever need such things; she was skilled with those twin daggers of hers.

"Well, we need to see Aveline; she mentioned last night she had some work for us. Then there's your dear friend Anso who you said had an "easy" job for us. And then you said that there's a Grey Warden in town that might help us get some maps, so we'll go meet him and see if we can't play a good game of swapsies! Later on I've agreed to help the, ahem, lady over there that has misplaced her clothes," Hawke recited, with a hint of humour laced throughout.

Varric laughed again at her quick wit and humour, maker, he could see him and Hawke being friends forever. She was easy to get along with, charming, in fact, and not bad on the eyes for a human.

He had known Hawke a few weeks, and already he swore he would protect his new best friend. Not that she needed it but there was something soft and broken in her eyes. She wouldn't let on what it was, in all the time he had spent with her these last few weeks he had never known her to get upset or disheartened by anything that happened. She always had a quick comment with a bit of humour in there, but Varric could see something underneath and it made him wonder what haunted her so.

He had a good feeling about Hawke though and all the way through his life he had relied on that beautiful son-of-a-bitch that was luck. He smiled at that thought.

They drank the last of their morning ale and started to walk to the keep. It was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four.

Anders

Anders could feel his mana slipping away, pouring out of his hands, his reserves depleting far too quickly as he struggled to heal the boy. The child was wasting away and required extensive healing, at the parent's begs and sobs Anders had continued, only stopping to chug the occasional lyrium potion as he poured his magic into the child. He drew on Justice's resolve, on his strength and his power and poured everything he had into the boy, praying to the Maker it would be enough.

Just as he thought he would collapse, the boy woke and took a huge gulp of air. The boy sat up slowly, slightly dazed and his parents embraced him, showering him in kisses. They all looked up and smiled at Anders as he slumped back against one of the pillars in his clinic. That look of pure elation always made his work worth it, knowing he had saved a life.

Anders had never been able to stay in one place for very long. He didn't like being controlled or corralled or pushed around. He'd always been a free spirit, a wanderer, constantly moving from one place to the next. But since merging with Justice he had found a sense of purpose, he ceased his aimless travels and escapes and finally had a reason to stay put somewhere. And for that he was very grateful.

Despite being exhausted he was suddenly on edge, Justice pressing at his mind, desperate for control. Anders pushed him down, but drew on his strength as he grabbed his staff and swivelled around to face the armed people now entering his clinic.

"I HAVE MADE THIS A PLACE OF HEALING AND SALVATION! WHY DO YOU THREATEN IT?" he bellowed at the intruders, Justice fuelling him.

"Well, we must have that look about us, Varric. Not even been here two seconds and we're already threatening stuff!" the woman that stood in front of the group chimed, making the dwarf to her right and the woman in the guard-armour laugh.

He looked at the woman that was staring at him sarcastically. She was Fereldan, he could tell that much with her pale skin. She was a beautiful woman, and the kind that a year ago Anders would have followed to the end of Thedas he thought to himself as he admired her red lips and playful green eyes.

**This one uses her daggers to deceive you. She is a mage. ** Justice said bluntly to Anders whose eyes widened. A mage that was ashamed of her powers, another reason that his plight was so important! The Templars and the damn Chantry had bullied mages into blood magic and resorting to this sort of hiding. Anders wondered what had happened to the mage to make her completely abandon her powers and wear such a mask.

The dwarf and the guardswoman looked amused at their leader, whereas the boy at the back looked at Anders and only Anders as if he was the danger in the room.

"I find a mage that hides the fact she is a mage accompanied by warriors to be somewhat threatening. Ever tried knocking?" Anders asked, harshly. He would not befriend this woman.

"I did once and no one answered and pretended to be out! I was so sad! And oh Maker you've found out my secret, are you going to clap me in irons and send me to the Gallows?" she said playfully, raising her eyebrow again.

"Yes, and whilst I'm there I'm going to declare my love to the Knight-Commander and ask for her hand in marriage!" Anders laughed, dropping his guard.

"Ooooh! Can I be a bridesmaid? I'll throw the petals down as she walks up the altar chanting the rite of tranquillity! It'll be beautiful!" the woman retorted back, making Anders laugh even more.

"**Do not drop your guard to this mage so quickly Anders, you do not know why she is here. She could be with the Wardens!"** Justice bellowed in Ander's mind, making him wince.

Anders stopped laughing now and stared at the woman before him.

"You still haven't answered my question. Are you with the Wardens? I am not going back to the blighted Wardens, they made me get rid of my cat!" Anders snorted, angry with the memory of the new Orlesian commander that had replaced the Queen of Ferelden and how he had got angry at Anders and Ser-Pounce-a-lot saying that the cat had made him soft.

"I am not with the Wardens. I-wait they made you get rid of your cat?" she said with a coy grin.

"**Anders do not drop your guard down again with this woman." **Justice warned him.

"If you are not Grey Wardens then what do you want from me?" Anders asked, staring at the woman who in an instance went from coy to serious.

"We heard that you had maps for entrances to the Deep Roads, I would like to buy them," she said, her eyes watching for Ander's reaction.

Maker, she had beautiful eyes, Anders thought. They reminded him of Ferelden, of the green hills in the summer.

"I have no interest in your gold," he stated, and yet he was still staring into her eyes. Electricity sparked even though he felt Justice try to rein it in. For a moment, he felt like he did a year ago.

"**This girl influences your thoughts too much already. Although her aid to get your fellow mage out of the Chantry as a trade for the maps she desires seems a lot safer than the plan you had for us to storm in," **Justice said, his voice seemed on tenterhooks, well as much as Justice's voice could be.

"Although a favour for a favour…does that sound like a fair deal?" he asked her, still examining her face and eyes.

"It does, as long as it doesn't involve children or animals, then I am your girl!" she said playfully, smiling slightly.

The boy behind her seemed disgusted at the banter that he and the woman were sharing, as if it was insulting to see her laugh like this. Maybe he saw Anders as a threat; he did seem quite skittish, looking at the way out and Anders a lot.

"I came to Kirkwall to aid a fellow mage who is trapped in the wretched gallows. I suspect the Templars know something of my plans as they have doubled their patrols recently and he has not been able to pass me as many messages lately.

Help me get him out and you will have your maps." Anders replied, not allowing himself to be taken in by her charms. The woman had left Justice irked and that did not happen very often, he could still feel that Justice was annoyed. But that did not bother him as much as it used to, he smiled at the way she said _your girl_.

"That seems reasonable to me, just tell me where and when," she answered.

"Tomorrow at the Chantry at night, I will meet you in the courtyard. You never told me your name." Anders pointed out.

"No. I did not, but I tell you nonetheless since you asked me so politely. I am Hawke. My brother is the warrior behind me, he is Carver. The charming dwarf is Varric and the guardswoman is Aveline." She introduced them and they all murmured hellos. Anders got the impression they were not so keen on him, not as much Hawke was. She seemed like the sort of person who was energetic about most things.

"My name is Anders," he stated back to them.

"Well, Anders. I must go and get myself into more mischief for now, but I shall see you tomorrow!" she promised a glint of roguery.

He watched her walk out of the clinic and found himself lingering on the door.

"**She will not want you Anders, especially if she finds out about me," **Justice whispered sternly.

"Oh shut up," Anders muttered out loud and went back to his duties.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five **

**Fenris will be here soon! I promise you!**

**Thank you once again to my Beta Enchantm3nt! Without you helping me I don't think I'd have even written this far! :D You're amaaaaazing!**

**Isabela part two**

Isabela waited at the hanged man for the woman; in fact she hadn't moved much from the tavern all day. She was too worried that she would run into trouble without the woman's aid. She felt more comfortable in taverns, they were familiar to her. The scent of piss and ale soothed her when she was worried.

She played with her mug of ale, her fingers loosely skimming the rim of the top of the mug. She wouldn't blame the woman if she did not come to help her. If the tables were turned then Isabela wouldn't even dream of helping someone without the promise of gold or sex.

Whilst she waited she listened to the patrons talk.

"Fucking Qunari, self-righteous horned bastards, on top of everything in this shit hole!" one of the patrons exclaimed, banging his hand on the table.

"Blame the Viscount for that fuck up. He could have told 'em to take a long walk off of a short cliff, but no, the coward gave them a sodding plot of land for them to settle in. The last thing this city needs is more fucking people in it after all the sodding refugees flocked here. And we definitely don't need no more religious nutters either, they can take their Blighted Qun and shove it up their arses," the other replied angrily, ending his rant with a belch.

"Balls," she muttered under her breath, they'd followed her here.

Castillion she could she could handle…she just needed to find his relic and return it, no biggie. But the _Qunari_…she wouldn't be able to reason with them, they'd kill her or worse _use_ her. They didn't like to _waste_ things.

Isabela downed the rest of her drink at the thought of more trouble, just as she did the door swung open and the woman she spoke to earlier came in accompanied by a dwarf, the warrior she had met before and a red haired giant of a woman donning guards armour and a Templar shield.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me, sweet thing!" she purred, making the woman's brother blush.

"Me! Forget a damsel in distress? You have already met me and my brother. The handsome dwarf with the forest of chest hair is Varric, my business partner. And this lady here is Aveline, soon to become captain Aveline after today's events!" Hawke said to her, a playful yet proud tinge in her voice.

"A pleasure to meet you!" she said

"Well now the formalities are done with, let's get down to business," Hawke said, looking around at the drunken patrons in the pub. Isabela could tell that Hawke enjoyed a drink just by the way she watched the drunken patrons with envy.

"I don't think we'll have time for drinks tonight sister, after all we have to meet Anso after this," Carver said to the elder Hawke in a stern voice.

Isabela smiled at the younger Hawke sibling, he was good looking and young. Exactly how she liked her men.

Hawke rolled her eyes and grunted with agreement and annoyance.

"Oooh your brother is the bossy type, I like bossy," Isabela purred again, looking straight at Carver.

Carver glanced at her, then her breasts and then back to her. After that he must have decided that he wouldn't look at her again as he kept his gaze to the floor.

"Her I like!" The dwarf that had been introduced Varric said, looking at her in amusement.

They had set off towards Hightown, Isabela had immediately hit it off with the dwarf and the younger brother, but the guardswoman didn't seem like the kind of woman she would normally get along with. She was different from her, instead of joining in with the sexual innuendos and jokes she merely tutted. _Maker what a prude_, thought Isabela.

Hawke had taken to walking in front of them all, almost as if she thought she could sense danger before it came to them. Isabela looked at her and frowned. The fellow rogue obviously didn't know how sensual the sway of her hips was. She walked almost like a feline poised and ready to attack.

This woman was so different to herself. What you saw was what you got with Isabela…everything was always on display and she liked it that way, she wanted her body as free as her mind. But Hawke…she kept her assets carefully hidden and gave nothing away. Isabela was almost envious of her, Isabela had to flaunt what she had to get people to look at her but the other rogue didn't and somehow still commanded the attention of the whole room or street.

They walked towards the courtyard, which seemed to be completely empty. Hawke, however, stood in the middle of it, her eyes scanning every inch while they lingered in the shadows.

"We are not alone!" she shouted to Isabela and the others, just as an army of rogues and warriors alike shot out of the shadows like confetti out of a party popper.

Hawke unsheathed her daggers, spinning them in a complex motion before dropping into a defensive stance as the attackers drew near. Isabela ran to her side, the warriors not far behind. Little Hawke and the carrotop guard were the first to attack, drawing most of the enemies toward them. Isabela slipped in between targets, her blades flowing effortlessly from slitting the throat of one to stabbing another. She kept stealing glances at Hawke who remained at her back, mirroring her moves and slicing with catlike grace and agility. It was the grin on Hawke's face though that really caught Isabela's eye. With every enemy Hawke felled her grin grew larger until she was almost laughing with glee. Isabela hadn't seen such obvious blood lust for a long time, she couldn't help but wish Hawke had been with her on her ship, perhaps then she wouldn't have had to sacrifice everything in the storm.

The last enemy fell, their heads lopped off by the younger Hawke's impressive sword. Yes, she rather liked the way his muscles rippled when he swung the impressive weapon, she couldn't help but wonder what _other_ impressive weapons he had on him.

Isabela smiled at Hawke as she wiped the gore from her daggers, Hawke did the same, returning her smile, her face covered in blood and filth, not that the rogue seemed to care. Yes, Isabela definitely wished she had met Hawke sooner.

"Start checking the bodies, see if we can get the advantage on Hayder," Isabela barked, as her mind started to wander to images of her and Hawke hijacking pirate ships out on the open ocean, the sea breeze in their hair and grins on their faces. Perhaps they could roll naked in the gold they looted together…

She watched Hawke bend over and a smile spread up her lips once again, oh yes, she could definitely get behind that.

The dwarf with the delicious chest hair was sighing in annoyance as he bent over checking the corpses for loot. Isabela couldn't help but admire his broad chest and the way his chest hair glistened in the evening Sun. She liked chest hair.

"Not much gold to split up here, Hawke. Might pay for a round back at the Hanged Man, that's it," he said with another sigh.

"Well, at least we can have get a drink when it's over," Hawke said, smiling at the dwarf.

"It'll take more than one drink for you to get your hands on my chest hair, Hawke!" Varric exclaimed jokingly, waggling his eyebrows.

Isabela watched Hawke curiously, she didn't know the rogue very well, but it was obvious she was fun to be around… she might even be someone Isabela would stick around for, at least until she found the relic. Once she had that she was getting the hell out of the city and away from the Qunari before they recognised her.

"I doubt it; I've seen you eyeing me up, Varric. You know you'd love it," Hawke laughed, making her brother and the guardswoman laugh too. Maker, she even made the manly guardswoman laugh and Isabela had been trying to do that the whole way here.

"Well, I doubt these people were the ones you were looking for, right?" Hawke said to Isabela

"Don't be silly. I wouldn't have asked for your help if this is all I had to deal with. Although…watching you and your sibling might have been reason enough. I can't quite pick who I'd have first…" she purred. "Perhaps at the same time?" she added, more to herself than them. She smiled when the brother blushed furiously. _How adorable._

To her bitter disappointment Hawke didn't smile or blush, he only cocked an eyebrow and kept her mouth tight. Isabela nearly sighed, _what would it take to make her blush?_ It was as if she had a wall up, Isabela could almost see her flirting bouncing off of the damn thing. She had thought that the guardswoman was the prude, but apparently that wasn't the case, Hawke was the one with an invisible chastity belt on.

_I like a challenge though._

"There is a message here…" the dwarf muttered, eyeing a scrap of parchment. "Shit. Rivaini, these people that are out to get you are well…shit," he sighed.

"Well? Care to elaborate?"Carver groaned. The boy obviously just wanted to go home.

"If you would just hold on a sodding minute, junior, I was getting to that part! It says _bring the bitch to the Chantry, alive. Castillion wants to deal with her himself_." The dwarf looked up at her. "What did you do to make that man so angry with you? I can feel a story here!"

She tried to hide her discomfort, this was not something she wanted to discuss.

"Castillion is mad with me because I let some of his _precious cargo_ go. Five hundred slaves to be exact," she sighed. "To make up for the loss I had to get him something else but I lost it…it's a relic of sorts and he wants it back." Not a total lie. Not the whole truth either though.

Hawke was watching her, staring at her with those intense green eyes of hers, scrutinizing her. She felt like Hawke's eyes would pull the truth right out of her and she held her breath, waiting for Hawke's unbearable gaze to end, hoping Hawke wouldn't suddenly abandon her now.

"Right, enough of this lets go," Hawke ordered and they began to move to the Chantry.

They entered the Chantry, only a few candles lit the interior of the grand building, but she didn't need bright lights to see the man pacing in the centre of the room. _Hayder. _He turned to face them as soon as they walked through the doors, not hiding like the brutes outside had done. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, dark hair matching his dark eyes. She gasped a little as she realised just how _tired_ he looked. Perhaps he hadn't slept at all while he searched for her? If so, he was an idiot, everyone knew to look for her at the taverns and brothels before anywhere else.

"Isabela," Hayder said her name with a crinkle of his nose. "I should have known you'd find me here." He sneered at her, his gold teeth flashing in the moonlight filtering in through the high windows.

"Tell your men to burn the letters next time," she replied coolly. She felt much more confident with Hawke and her companions watching her back.

"Castillion was heartbroken when he heard about your ship wreck, you should have let him know that you were alive," Hayder countered, a sickly smile on his face.

"Well that must have slipped my mind," Isabela replied her voice coloured with humour as she shrugged.

"Where's the relic?" Hayder asked, his tone demanding.

"I lost it, Castillion is just going to have to do without," she stated, her voice taking a more serious note.

Hayder and the rest of his men were becoming more jumpy. She knew these ticks well, she saw them on sailors who were about to start a fight.

"You lost it? Like you lost a ship full of valuable cargo?" Hayder laughed, but his voice had begun to get louder. Isabela knew from previous dealings with Hayder that the little patience that he had was wearing thin.

"They weren't cargo, they were people!" she retorted back, anxious to just kill him and have done with it. He could be stalling, waiting for reinforcements and Isabela wanted to get him off her back and find the damned relic and then finally continue her life as it was before: full of blissful love making and decent ale.

"Castillion won't be happy to hear this, Isabela," he threatened with a grin that was getting slowly bigger with smugness.

"You know you don't have to tell Castillion about Isabela," Hawke cut in, interrupting their jolly reunion.

Hayder looked at Hawke, examining her for a moment with greedy eyes.

"Castillion doesn't like to be double crossed. And my life is worth more than hers," Hayder spat with disgust that Hawke had even considered that he would let her go.

Isabela was quite done talking, it was far too boring. And if there was one thing she hated it was boring.

"There is only one way to settle this," she said, her voiced sounding as bored as she felt.

She grabbed the small dagger on her hip, the one perfect for throwing and tossed the lithe blade at one of the raiders next to Hayder. The woman gurgled as she fell to the ground, dead. In seconds the fight began in earnest but her eyes were set on Hayder.

She could see Hawke weaving in and out of their attackers, seeking out her next target before the previous had even hit the ground dead. The warriors were doing their usual, drawing the stupid attackers to them in droves and she could hear the dwarf calling out in the distance, mocking their attackers, "Really, Hawke! I could do this in my sleep!" She smiled at that as she danced in closer to Hayder again. The cowardly bastard was trying to get away it made her lip curl to think that this man called himself a pirate but he had as much bravado as a mouse hiding in the Chantry as he had been.

She followed him to a dead end corridor in the hope that she had backed him into a corner but she gasped when Hayder ran up the wall and launched a smoke bomb, rendering her stunned for a moment. She mentally slapped herself for being so foolish as to forget she taught Hayder that trick years ago.

Hayder fled back towards the battleground and stopped in shock.

His men were all dead, and he had his back turned to Isabela as he stood looking at Hawke in shock.

"Good night, sweet dreams," Hawke purred menacingly, as she threw one of her daggers and it hit Hayder square between the eyes.

He crumpled to the ground without a sound.

But before Isabela could say any more, the younger Hawke looked around, noticing the sconces coming to life with flame around them and the noise from the upper levels as people awoke from their sleep. His eyebrows knitted together in worry as he took a fleeting glance at the dead bodies on the ground before looking back to the torches now burning and the long shadows being cast on the walls as they drew closer to them all…

"Sister we need to leave!" he called over at Hawke, her faced mirrored her

"Indeed we do brother, we're late." She gave a throaty laugh, turning to exit the Chantry.

Hawke bolted from the Chantry, throwing the doors open in a rush and her companions were quick on her tail. Isabela frowned as she chased after them wondering what on earth the hurry was. If the Templars and sisters had asked what was going on they could have said that they were stopping thieves or bandits. Isabela replayed Hawke's laugh over and over in her head as she jogged down the steps, it was a panicked laugh. Why would Hawke be panicked? The only people who feared Templars were apostates…She started to smile. One of the Hawke's was an apostate, there was no way the dwarf was or the guardswoman, the question was… which sibling? Not that it mattered much, it might be fun to try to figure out though while she was stuck in this damned city looking for the relic and avoiding Qunari.

They ran all the way to Lowtown before finally stopping, by which point Isabela was bent over panting. "Hey!" she gasped out. "I never got to say thank you!"

"It was a pleasure Isabela," Hawke said, her voice preparing to say farewell.

"Well it could be a pleasure over and over again, if you require my help," Isabela drawled, her hand on her hip leaning it to one side so her ass stuck out that bit more just to make her brother blush.

_This was definitely the most fun she'd had since coming to this city. _

Hawke scanned her for a moment; Isabela could tell she was debating with herself whether to allow her into her group. Maker, she felt like she was auditioning to be a part of some exclusive guild. It irked her that Hawke had to debate with herself; normally Isabela got whatever she wanted in an instant.

"I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship," Hawke chuckled, her laugh sound like a wind chime.

"Or the start of something just as much fun," Isabela countered, her eyes lingering on Hawke and her brother. She liked to collect the sets if she could.

"Good. Since you've made a new friend, Hawke, she can take my place whilst you do illegal dealings with this dwarf," Aveline said as she waved a hand in Varric's direction. "Now that I'm captain, I don't think it's going to look good if I was caught helping you with such things," she finished, stifling a yawn.

"Indeed, come Isabela! Join our small band of misfits!" Hawke said dramatically, her arms wide and welcoming.

Isabela smiled, she knew life had just taken a drastic turn for the better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six **

**Anders part two**

**Just a few more chapters until Fenris! **

**Once again, thank you to my beta Enchantm3nt for being so great!**

**Reviews are welcome. **

Anders waited in the Chantry courtyard, eyes peeled as he glanced around, checking for signs of Templars. It was a cold night and his breath came out in white puffs to float away on the gentle breeze. He rubbed his hands together for the hundredth time trying to bring some heat to his frozen digits. It also gave him something to focus on other than the fact that Hawke was late. Her tardiness only added to his already frayed nerves. He couldn't help but worry that the Templars had seen through her act, had realised that she wasn't in fact a rogue at all. But he knew the timings of the Templar patrols and he knew that she knew them too. She would have her brother for protection as well and the dwarf, no doubt. She was just late. Nothing more, nothing less. And Anders had arrived extra early, it was his own fault his toes were now numb.

He was surprised a mage who hid her magic was willing to enter the Chantry with him, risking her own skin to help him, more than that though; she was willing to help him free a mage from the Gallows too. He couldn't help but think about the future, about the potential for them to continue to work together to help more mages…

"She does this for her own egotistical needs and not that of the mages," Justice commented, drawing him away from such thoughts.

Anders sighed. He wanted to know why Hawke hid her magic, there must have been some reason for it other than to keep herself safe, there was more to it than that. Why did she hate it so?

Anger rose in his throat, it was the Chantry's fault for putting fear in the heart of every person in Thedas, mages included. Everyone was taught that magic was to be feared and that mages could turn into abominations at any moment. It wasn't _right_ to just lock them away out of fear. It wasn't _right_ to give Templars such control and authority over mages. It wasn't _right_ to take children from their mother's skirts. He could feel Justice bristling, moving to the forefront of his mind, influencing his thoughts, pushing to take control. He swallowed thickly and then his shoulders sagged in relief as Hawke appeared and Justice simmered back down. He was glad she was safe and was surprised just _how_ relieved he was at that fact. She really did remind him of someone he used to know.

Hawke walked up to him in an almost feline prowl, he had no doubt in his mind that if Hawke wanted to become invisible then she could within an instant.

"Focus, Anders. We have a job to do," Justice reminded him as Anders' eyes continued to watched Hawke's swaying hips as she approached him.

His eyes flittered across her companions, her brother was at her side, and the dwarf her other side, behind her was a dusky skinned woman that looked vaguely familiar…she wasn't wearing much and she had a wicked gleam in her eyes as she approached him.

"Anders," Hawke said, nodding at him as if this was a business meeting instead of an escape attempt.

"Thank you for coming," he replied, as he looked at the other companions to thank them too.

"Let's save it Blondie. Ifyou want to say thank you, say it later, when we've got out of the Chantry," Varric interrupted before Anders could say another word.

"Blondie?" he questioned the dwarf who had given him the nickname.

"Well if you'd prefer, I could call you ponytail?" Varric joked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Blondie will be fine, thank you." Anders replied curtly, tightening his ponytail indignantly.

They had entered the chantry to find it silent, he noticed that Hawke's face has become unreadable and yet he knew that she was scared. He instantly felt bad for involving her in this rescue attempt as she had more to lose than he did. He had nothing, but Hawke had her brother. He took a quick look at her brother as he thought about and saw that Carver was glaring at Anders in disgust. Surely the fact that his sister was a mage would make it easier for him to be accepted by the younger Hawke, but apparently not.

They weaved their way through the bookcases and statues of the upper floors of the Chantry until they found the side room where he was supposed to meet Karl. He found his fellow mage standing with his back to him. Anders reached out for his shoulder, willing him to turn to face him; instead of warm eyes and a relieved smile though, he was greeted by dead eyes and a sullen look and the blazing sun of tranquility on Karl's forehead.

"Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up. I was too rebellious, like you, I had to be made an example of," Karl said, his voice flat and emotionless.

"No!" Anders pleaded, his voice breaking. He was too late. Not Karl. Please not Karl. He was such a kind man, such a good man. He could feel Justice rearing his ugly head, pressing at every part of his mind. He was a Harrowed mage. This was not right. This could not be happening.

"The Templars will teach you a lesson too."

Anders swivelled around just as the sound of clattering plate armour approached them; several Templars had them surrounded. For a brief moment Anders caught a glimpse of fear in Hawke's eyes until she slipped her mask of indifference back on. Her brother was in front of her; ready to defend her with his life and so too was the dwarf, crossbow in hand.

The Templars advanced and Anders felt Justice's rage burn through his veins, he remembered Hawke's face as she looked upon the Templars in fear. That fear was just the start of the injustices every mage in Thedas had to live with thanks to the abuse of the Templars. They abused their position and preached that the mages were the ones who abused the world they all lived in. Rage bubbled and simmered until Anders could not contain it any longer. Justice pulled him further into the hatred of the cruelty the mages had to endure.

Ander's fell to the floor, the rage and hatred taking control of his entire body making him shake as Justice burned through his mind. His control started to crack and wither and it literally showed on Anders's skin as he let Justice crack through and make himself to known to these vile Templars. He could feel them trying to drain his mana; they would not escape Justice's burn.

"**YOU WILL NEVER TAKE ANOTHER MAGE AS YOU TOOK HIM!"** Justice boomed out to the Templars using Anders' lips.

Justice raised Ander's hand at the Templars and with one swipe of his hand set each and every Templar a light with blue flames. He watched them squirm and begin to scream but before they could call out for help Justice silenced them all with another flick of Ander's hand. Anders saw Hawke through the blurry vision of Justice and saw the look of shock and horror she had thrown at him.

Justice saw the look too; and in an instance he let go of the rage and once again took the back seat of Ander's mind. He seemed too shocked to say anything and became silent as if recovering from the rage that had erupted within them both.

Anders stared at Hawke intensely as if pleading, but before he could say anything to her Karl gasped in shock.

"I-Anders, what did you do? It's like you brought a piece of the fade into this world! I had already forgotten what that feels like!" Karl exclaimed.

"Yes, Anders. What did you?" Hawke growled icily her hands twitching as if readying herself for a fight. Anders didn't know how to explain well enough without running out of time before more Templars arrived. Instead he turned back to Karl.

"It's like a gateway to the fade inside you, glowing like a beacon!" Karl exclaimed again, obviously shocked that the tranquility had somehow been reversed.

"Never mind that Karl, how did they get you?" Anders asked in a rushed voice, he knew there would be more Templars coming soon. He turned to Hawke who was still staring at him in disgust, her brother's face the exact same as hers. He noticed how the warrior had taken steps in front of his sister again as if Anders was now the threat.

"**They are ignorant to our cause Anders, this mage holds little love for us," **Justice said.

"The Templars here are far more vigilant than those from Ferelden, they found our letters. And now, all of the colour and the music is gone," Karl replied, tears welling up in his eyes.

Anders blamed himself for Karl's fate, he wished there was something he could do for his old friend. He looked at Karl and at Hawke, these mages were the reason his plight was so serious and why he would exact his revenge on the Templars.

"Anders, you know what to do! We agreed years ago should one of us ever become Tranquil then the other would kill them rather than let them become puppets to the blighted Templars," Karl begged.

"I can't Karl, please don't make me!" Anders retorted, disgusted that he did not have the courage to help a friend. He knew tranquility was a fate worse than death but he just couldn't bring himself to do such a thing.

"**Would you rather he serves the Templars on hand and foot?" **Justice boomed in his mind.

"It's fading Anders; I can feel it leaving me!" Karl begged again, his eyes pleading Anders to grant him this one last favour.

He looked at Hawke; her face had become stony and indifferent again. She turned to her brother and whispered something and her brother had nodded. The group walked away from the scene and out of the Chantry; Anders didn't know whether to thank her for the privacy or slap her for leaving him to do something he couldn't bear to do.

Anders turned to his old friend and unsheathed his dagger from his belt.

"Forgive me Karl," he whispered as gave Karl a final hug and plunged the dagger into his gut.

He looked around at the burnt Templars and then Karl's body; it was in this moment he realised that there would never be a middle ground. If either side got the advantage there would be nothing but blood. But at least the mages would have good excuse to commit such crimes and rebel against the Chantry.

He left the Chantry and walked down to his clinic, doing his best to avoid guard patrols or any Templars. He opened the clinic door and realised someone was already here.

"_What_ are you?" Hawke's voice said from the shadows.

She walked out to face him, daggers already in her hands as if she was ready to strike him at any moment. Her white hair had fallen loose, framing her face and somehow making her look more feral and angry than Anders thought possible and yet at the same time Anders enjoyed seeing such passion on her face. There was thin line between love and hate.

He sighed and sat down on one of the stools that littered his clinic. He gestured that Hawke did the same, but she did not move or sheath her daggers. She looked at him intensely, as if trying to extract the truth from his very soul.

"It's a long story, you may want to sit down," Anders said, gesturing the seat once more.

She sat down, watching him with narrowed eyes as he explained. He told her about his escape from the Circle, about him joining the Wardens, about meeting Justice, and about the offer he made. He watched Hawke anxiously, waiting for her expression to change but it never did she remained cool and indifferent as always.

She stared at him for a moment as if scrutinizing every aspect of his face to see if he truly was being honest but after a few moments she regained her composure.

"And do you usually burn Templars to a crisp?" she asked coldly.

"I do when they hurt my friends like they did Karl, but no this is the first time that this has happened to this degree, I will admit." he said, looking at her red lips that had mashed into a hard line.

"Can you control Justice?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Anders replied, although he felt that it was a lie on his part, he and Justice were one and they felt the same hatred towards the injustice of mages.

"You do a lot of good in this clinic," she stated, obviously debating with herself whether to kill him or not. For the first time in ages, Anders truly felt scared.

He nodded as she continued "I will let you live Anders, but if Justice even thinks about setting his wrath on Templars again, you should warn him that I will not be so merciful," she threatened, putting her daggers back on her back.

"**She speaks the truth Anders, she will kill us," **Justice said quieter than usual, as if scared that Hawke could hear him.

She smiled at him now, as if the conversation was forgotten. "If you ever need anything Anders, you can call on me to help you, as long as it doesn't conflict with my morals," she said cheerfully.

He looked at her face as she smiled at him. She was beautiful, her white hair with the one red streak making her looking somewhat mystical. He wanted to know why she did not use her magic, but he thought it would be too inappropriate to ask her just after she had threatened his life.

"My maps are yours Hawke, as am I should you need me," he said, looking at her red lips with desire. He thought he could make her see the plight of the mages; she was one of them after all. Not only that but he had become curious, he wanted to know why she denied herself, why her hair was white as snow when her brother's hair was jet black. He was hungry for the secrets she kept hidden.

"Thank you Anders, we're all meeting at the Hanged Man tomorrow if you would like to join us," she replied a kind smile painted her delicate face.

"I shall see you there, sweetheart," he replied giving her a small bow good night.

He watched her walked out of the clinic again, looking at her wistfully.

"**This mage will get in the way with our plight," **Justice thought as Anders smiled as he got himself ready for bed.

It felt nice to be smiled at, it so rarely happened to him genuinely. No one else had listened to his story and then smiled at him. Was this woman an angel? He had heard the people of Darktown talk of the rumours of Aria Hawke but none of them could have prepared him for such a woman.

Anders fell asleep that night dreaming of him and Hawke, fighting for the freedoms of their kind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven**

**A bird of prey**

**After this one I promise you Fenris will be here! **

**Big thanks to my Beta, Enchantm3nt as always for reading through and helping me become a better writer! **

Hawke walked into her uncle's hovel in the early hours of the morning, she had been up all day and sleep had eluded her as always. It was becoming a recurring thing for her these days, she thought, as she unbuckled her leather armour. On the other side of the room, her brother laid face first on his bed his mouth wide open and a substantial amount of drool coming from his mouth. She rolled her eyes.

_And he wonders why he can't get laid?_

She looked at the sun coming from the clouds and realised that it would be nearly time to wake up anyway, rendering sleeping pointless. Instead she opened her coffer box and counted the gold they had collected for the expedition. There were about seventeen sovereigns, she counted quickly. Maker, if she left the box open for too long her uncle would be able to smell the money and ransack it like he did to the girls at the Blooming Rose.

She thought about the past week's events, and the new "friends" she had made. The pirate Isabela seemed to be fun to be around, although she danced around the subject of the relic enough to make Hawke aware that there was something to the relic that was deeper than she let it on to be. She was however constantly in the mood for sex, and always trying to throw her clothes off. But she was wild and free and being with her made Hawke feel that maybe she could be wild and free too. It was nice to finally have a friend that was a girl, as much as she loved Aveline she was manlier than most of the guard put together.

The mage Anders seemed pained and haunted; she had felt sorry for him when he explained the story of how he and Justice had come to be. She thought he would be useful as they had no other mages apart from herself and she had deserted her staff years ago. Anders was an exceptional healer and a Warden, two things she needed desperately for the Deep Roads, plus he looked like he could do with a friend, he looks so sad and lonely.

She enjoyed both the pirate and the healer's company; both were easy to get along with. Carver, however, had objected to Anders right away, pleading that she just leave him and his spirit to their own problems. She knew that her brother was scared for her safety rather than his own; he had sworn to protect her since the day_ it_ happened. She winced, shaking off the memory before it surfaced again.

She walked towards the basin, cleansing her skin in cool water to keep her awake and washing the grime from yesterday's activities. She brushed her hair and tied it up into a neat bun, and started to put her armour on once again. Whilst she got dressed she heard the stirrings of her mother who always liked to be up before her children to make sure that she was able to cook them breakfast, she worried about them if they hadn't eaten properly. A good hearty breakfast was apparently a must before they left for their "work" as mother called it, even though she knew full well what they did during their days and some nights. Their mother had even met Isabela and had called the pirate a little firecracker, claiming that Isabela reminded her of her younger self, much to Hawke and Carver's horror.

Leandra had not yet met Anders, and Hawke did not want her to, just yet. The mage was normal enough at first glance but what she had experienced with him in the Chantry would haunt her forever. She had felt the burn of the fade calling her like a beacon, something she thought she had abandoned many years ago. Justice's wrath had scared the hell out of her, and yet a small part of her wished that someone like that was there to save her on that terrible night.

_No, don't you dare think of that night. _

And yet despite his flaws she found Anders' company enjoyable once she looked past Justice. He had a kind nature and she pitied him. But she did not trust men. She laughed at that thought, making Carver stir in his bed. _Well__,__ apart from Carver._

"Aria, are you up?" her mother whispered through the crack of the door.

"Yes mother, I was just about to ask you the same actually," Hawke replied, walking towards the door and opening it to reveal her mother standing there. Her mother's hair had begun to grey terribly in the year that they had lived in Kirkwall. She was hardly surprised; the stress that she had dealt with in the past year would have turned her hair grey, if it wasn't already white. The loss of Bethany had impacted Leandra terribly, and in her grief she had lashed out at Hawke. She didn't mind, if it helped heal her mother she would happily pass her daggers and let her mother stab her until she felt better.

"I'm just about to make breakfast, or are you already going out?" her mother asked, eyeing up her armour and daggers that she had already changed into.

"No, not yet Mother. I will be when Carver gets his lazy ass up though" she said, raising her voice slightly so that Carver could hear her.

"I'm coming, I'm bloody coming! I hate getting up this early! Az, why can't we have just one day when there's nothing to do? Maker, I never get to sleep!" Carver groaned, stepping out of the room to sit at the pitiful excuse of a table.

"Carver, you had two days off last week, and you just whinge when I tell you to go and enjoy yourself," Aria replied, coyly grinning at her brother.

"Well if you stopped making trips to the Chantry at night maybe I would be able to relax," Carver retorted back, and then cringed as his mother gasped in horror.

"Oh Maker, Aria you should not be going in that place! What if you're caught? They would chain you in the Gallows and we would never see you again!" her mother exclaimed, as she started to stir the pot that was on the stove.

"Do not worry yourself, Mother, I will not let that happen," Carver attempted to reassure their mother who just nodded in acknowledgement.

She looked at her mother as she continued to stir the pot, she could tell she was worried and stressed. Life had not been good for her mother lately and she mentally promised that when she came back from the expedition with a horde of treasure she would give it all to her mother and they would buy back the Amell estate. She would no longer have to live in this hovel of a place.

Leandra bowled out the porridge she had made into three bowls, placing them all down on the table and sat down. They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, before her mother broke it.

"So, Isabela tells me that you have an admirer, Aria," her mother said, smiling.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed if I do have one," she replied puzzled at this new knowledge.

"Yes, she said an apostate named Anders has expressed an interest in you," her mother continued but before she could say anything more Aria raised her hand in objection to the conversation.

"Now that is just Isabela assuming, it appears to be one of her traits. Me and Anders are work colleagues and nothing more," Aria replied disgruntled whilst her brother snorted into his porridge.

"I thought so when she told me, but I remembered that we Amell women have a thing for apostates," her mother chuckled, putting a spoonful of porridge in her mouth.

Aria did not reply to this, she didn't want to start a rant or argument about how she did not want a relationship or even think about such a thing. Mother and Carver were her priority and as soon as they restored their noble stature she would not have to hide herself as much. As soon as she had fixed their predicament, she would then try and fix herself.

She stood up as soon as she finished and hugged her mother goodbye, rolling her eyes and her mother hugged her tighter telling her to be safe.

"I'll be at the Hanged Man, Brother," she said before left the hovel they lived in and stepped out into the sunlight. She loved it when the sun dawned; it meant a brand new day had begun.

She lingered for a second and made her journey to the Hanged Man.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

**The Lyrium wolf**

**Fenris is finally here! Sorry it took so long :( **

**Big big thanks to my beta reader, Enchantm3nt! **

His lip curled into a sneer as he drank the swill that this tavern called ale. He was sitting in the shadows, back against the wall as he watched the door impatiently for the dwarf. He had planned the entire thing carefully, knowing that the hunters were hot on his heels, hunting him like he was game. His gauntleted fingers tapped impatiently on the table, the dwarf was late. He had one very simple job to do, he just needed to point the mercenaries they had hired in the direction of the house, once that was done he was supposed to come to the Hanged Man to inform him. _So where is he?_

He had ambushed the dwarf some days ago, having spotted the skittish man staring up at the sky in horror. Anso was his name and he had nearly leapt out of his skin as Fenris grabbed and threw him into the shadows of the alleyway. They had come to an _agreement_. Anso was to hire someone to help him get rid of the slavers on his back; in return Fenris wouldn't throw him into the sky. Not the nicest of arrangements perhaps, but a necessary one, there was nobody in the city he could trust so a well-placed threat was necessary. He was done running; it was time to face them.

Anso had met him in a dark alley a few days later telling him that the infamous smuggler, Hawke, had taken up the job. Anso had assured him that Hawke was more than capable to take on any challenge. Fenris was relieved that it was someone of this status; they would need all the skill they had to defeat the highly skilled hunter regiment.

He had heard the merchants and civilians of Lowtown praise the smuggler's skill, in fact wherever he went the name Hawke was on people's lips. According to the people of Kirkwall, Hawke had entered the city on a dragon after killing a darkspawn ogre with their bare hands. Fenris did not believe something which sounded so outlandish but he had to admit that he was already impressed by Hawke's reputation. Hawke sounded like a man to be reckoned with.

Fenris had done nothing but wait in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye as the hunters slowly closed in. All of their past efforts had been in vain, for six months they tried to capture him but he had always eluded them. Tonight, finally the hunt would end and it would be with their blood and not his.

The dwarf came in through the door, bulging eyes scanning the room. Fenris stalked over to him and pulled him into the corner, making him squeak in surprise. "Well?" he asked, making the dwarf flinch.

"Hawke has just gone down to Alienage n-now," the dwarf stuttered, looking at the great sword that Fenris had on his back and then back to Fenris' face.

Fenris nodded at him and left the tavern, he prowled through the streets, for once he was the hunter and not the hunted. Much to his satisfaction he could hear the clash of metal and screamed Tevinter curses leaving the hunter's lips, as he approached the Alienage.

He turned the corner and found a backup regiment of the hunters lying in wait, ready to charge into the Alienage. The fools all had their backs to him as he charged in, his brands flaring their usual blue. He cut through them like they were butter, all but one falling to the floor with little resistance. He recognised the lieutenant staring at him in shock, his sword dropping to the ground as he pissed himself.

Fenris bared his teeth to him. "Back to me," he ordered and the man slowly turned around. "Now walk silently forward." The man obliged, taking the steps slowly down to the Alienage. Fenris put his hand on the man's shoulder, halting his movements as he listened to the conversation taking place below.

"Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing, now!" someone bellowed.

Fenris smirked and plunged his sword into the back of the lieutenant and pushed him forward, the man staggered down the steps, blood gushing out of his wound. "Ca-Captain," the man gargled before flopping to the floor, dead.

Fenris stalked down the stairs, eyeing the carnage below with satisfaction. "Your men are dead, your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master," he said as he stared at the shocked and angry face of the captain.

"You're coming with me _slave_," the captain hissed venomously, whilst making a grab for Fenris' arm.

Anger bubbled to the surface and the familiar burn of lyrium sparked again.

"I am _not_ a slave," he snarled. His hand lit up and he plunged it into the man's chest and ripped out his heart. He held it for a moment in front of the captain, who stared at it, horrified, before he too joined the lieutenant on the ground. Fenris tossed the heart aside, and turned to the group of mercenaries he had hired.

A man was standing at the head of the group, a huge greatsword strapped to his back as his coal black hair fell over his frowning face. He was standing in front of someone defensively, as was the dwarf with the crossbow to his right and the guardswoman to his left, shield braced and ready for another fight. _Who are they protecting?_

The last thing he wanted was to start a fight with the people who had just helped save his life, he wasn't sure what the reason was for their hostility but he would need their help in order to deal with his former master. He suspected that Danarius had accompanied these hunters to the city and Fenris would be a fool to try to fight him alone. The magister could summon demons and shades with a flick of his wrist, or a slit as the case may be. There was strength in numbers and these mercenaries had more than proven their worth, hopefully whatever valuables Danarius had brought with him would serve as a suitable payment to them all.

He glanced at Hawke; the strong warrior was still scowling at him. Fenris straightened and relaxed his shoulders, hoping he looked less threatening. "I apologise. When I asked Anso to set up a distraction for the hunters I never thought they would be so… numerous. Your reputation exceeds you, Hawke.

The dwarf started to cough as if to hide a chuckle, the guardswoman looked at him sternly. Fenris was not stupid; he could sense there was something up.

"Varric, if you write this down in one of your stories so help me Maker I will shave your chest hair!" a woman's voice squeaked from behind the trio.

Fenris cocked his head in confusion, _what was going on_?

Fenris watched small white hands divide the dwarf and the warrior from their wall of protection. She walked forward towards him, and Fenris then understood.

_Hawke was a woman._

It unnerved Fenris slightly that she was female. Maybe it bruised his ego to hear that the brave warrior that had slain an ogre on her own, fought countless enemies without a scratch and was a beacon of hope to those who were stuck in the poverty of this hell of a city was a woman. He noticed the stern gaze the guardswoman was giving him she had obviously sensed he had not pleased her with his surprise at the gender of his saviour, though he hardly cared for her or her feelings towards him. He did not care what anyone thought of him, he lived in a pit of hatred and self-loathing and he was perfectly happy in said pit.

He looked back at Hawke again and Fenris noticed that she too had white hair, not as white as his was but almost there. He noted how the red streak in her fringe contrasted with her pale skin and green eyes. She looked almost ethereal.

"I take it that these men were looking for you then?" she asked Fenris, obviously becoming impatient whilst he was processing that the legendary Hawke was a female rogue.

"You are correct. My name is Fenris; these imperial bounty hunters were seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely," he remarked, eyeing the corpses of dead hunters once more.

"Well, if I killed a few slavers then I am happy to oblige anytime," she said fiercely.

"I have met few in my travels who help without seeking personal gain," Fenris murmured, bending down to the Captain's dead body.

The dwarf shifted his weight awkwardly to each side of his body until Hawke turned round and laughed "Go ahead, Varric, I can sense you're dying to," turning back to Fenris as the dwarf scurried off and began looting corpses. She looked down at him with curiosity, as he searched the Captain's affects and found a note.

It was as if they had known another way to get to him even beyond the void, he thought staring at the folded note, it was mocking him as if they had all known he could not read and hadn't bothered to keep anything hidden because Fenris was a stupid slave. He started to descend once more into his depths of hatred but he remembered that Hawke was still watching him.

He passed her the note, not wanting to disclose to a group of strangers that he could not read. She looked at him for a moment and then passed it off, unfolding the note and reading out loud.

"_Bring him back unharmed, knock him out if you must but do not kill him. Bring him to me straight away. Danarius,_ "she read, passing him back the note.

He looked up for one moment and stared into her green eyes, a lighter shade than his own. He quickly looked down in shock of a strange undercurrent emotion that had ran through him as their eyes met, ignoring it straight away. He would admire the wine, but never allow himself a taste.

He could also appreciate why Hawke was so deadly and well known, no one would ever expect such a small young woman to do the dirty jobs that were for mercenaries. He looked at her pale skin and large eyes staring at him in curiosity. No, people would expect a young woman such as herself to attend dinner parties and be married off to some noble. Fenris was hardly shocked these days and yet here he stood before a woman who was renowned by the poor in this city as deadly and yet she looked like she belonged on the waist of some rich man with a keen eye for pretty things.

_Venhedis! Stop admiring the wine fool! Snap out of it!_

"It seems my former master is here. If you would, I require your assistance in destroying him limb from limb," he said almost feral, letting the hatred of Danarius consume all of his thoughts.

"Lead the way, I…" Hawke had started to speak but the warrior had interjected before she could continue, he had let out an exasperated gasp of air.

"Sister, Mother will not be happy if we are back late again," the warrior said, his gaze narrowing on Fenris.

So the warrior before him was indeed a Hawke? It made him feel better for his foolishness before in assuming that Hawke could never be a woman.

He understood perfectly, as he studied the Hawke sibling. He knew that if he had a sister he would protect her until the very end, although if his sister was anything like the rumours about this woman-Hawke- he couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor man for even trying. She seemed like she could handle herself quite well.

"Look Junior, your sister knows what's best for her, if you're so bothered why not just go home?" the dwarf asked, returning from looting the bodies.

"Varric, I would if she stopped putting herself in the company of men such as this," he said, his hand waving slightly at Fenris as if he wasn't even there. It annoyed him that the man was so rude but Fenris bit his tongue at the insult, remind himself once again that if the tables were turned and he was protecting his own sister he would definitely keep her away from a fugitive slave such as him. But that was not the point, Fenris was becoming impatient with the debating, Danarius could be making his getaway as they argued and Fenris would rather try and face them alone and die then miss him at all because this group of strangers was having a domestic.

"We are helping this man and that is final," Hawke stated as the squabbling broke out, and just as she said it the group ceased to argue and agreed with her.

She had called him a man. No one had ever called him a man; he was used to be called elf, knife ears, slave but never man. She was the first person to ever regard him with such respect, Fenris was shocked once again.

"Thank you, we must get going before he leaves," Fenris said, his eyes meeting hers once again.

"Lead the way," she replied back her voice almost a purr, creating waves of shivers down his back.

And so he ran through Lowtown and towards the mansion that Danarius had claimed in Hightown, all the way he could feel her darting with him in the shadows. He could tell she was skilled in hiding in the shadows and most people would render her invisible but Fenris had spent six months of having to be paranoid of everything and everyone, he was hyperaware of everything around him; down to the last granule of dirt on the floor.

He stopped at the mansion door, waiting for the group to meet him. The dwarf and two warriors ran towards him with heavy breaths as if they'd been trying to catch up the entire time, but there was no sign of Hawke.

He heard the slipping of a few loose roof tiles and watched as female rogue landed at their feet, she had flipped herself from the roof of the mansion with great ease. Her expression was calculating as she turned round and looked at Fenris, and he understood why she had such a reputation.

"The mansion looks abandoned, sconces were lit a few days ago but they're burning out which would suggest no one's been here for a day or two," she whispered looking round at her companions who were nodding with acknowledgement.

"My former master is a trickster, he would have you think it of that way," Fenris said gruffly at the rogue.

"Indeed. Lead the way please," she said to him, obviously noting his discomfort.

They entered the mansion but as soon as they had come to the first hallway, they were attacked by shades. As Fenris fought he noticed that the group were well organised and fought together as a team, aiding one another. The dwarf stood back and tried to cover them with his repeating cross bow, firing shots at shades that got too close. Hawke and her brother worked as a team, he took on the front assault where she covered his back, slicing and stabbing wherever she could. The guardswoman covered them both with her shield, bashing all those who tried to break through her defence. To work as a team was foreign to Fenris, he had been on his own since his eyes had first opened.

It seemed that the deeper they went into the mansion, the more demons and shades appeared guarding his former master relentlessly. Fenris roared in impatience after they had finished off the last shade "DANARIUS! SHOW YOURSELF!"

But there was no answer; it fuelled him with hatred and anger that the coward would send demons to smite him instead of fighting him himself. They opened the entrance to the main hall, Hawke shadowing him with her daggers when they were ambushed by an army of demons. Shades and rage demons stood ready for battle, led by an arcane horror. Fenris had seen his fair share of these in Tevinter; magisters summoned them daily. They did not have any quarrel with blood magic or demons there.

He readied himself for the fight, clenching the hilt of his greatsword as he charged in to the fray of demons, the image of Danarius' heart in his hand motivating him to continue fighting.

He sensed Hawke darting in and out of him slashing at what she could, then the next thing he knew she was no longer with him and attempting to aid the dwarf who was being outnumbered by the shades that were descending upon him. Fenris scanned the battlefield and noticed the younger Hawke sibling was being backed into a corner by the arcane horror and a legion of shades all trying to claw at him and send the man to the void.

Fenris ran towards the fellow warrior to aid him but soon enough he had become overpowered too, he began to glow and slashed his sword trying to take as many down with him. He became savage, letting his need for survival take control. The shades had begun to claw at the other warrior and had pulled him to the floor whilst they clawed and scratched at every inch of him.

For a moment he thought that he was going to die, and that the shades and demons would take him and Danarius would rip his skin from his body in triumph. But before he could think anymore he heard Hawke scream at the sight of her brother being mangled. The Arcane Horror advanced on Fenris, its hand moving towards his throat whilst the shades circled him. At least he had died a free man. He closed his eyes, waiting for death.

He dropped to the floor with a bang, his eyes opening and for the third time that night Fenris had been shocked.

Each and every shade was either impaled by an oversized icicle, or frozen by the cold. In the middle of the hall he saw that Hawke had collapsed, the trail of ice ending with her.

_Faasta Vas! A mage! _

He got up from the floor and peered at Hawke. A mage that denies her magic, he thought noticing how weak it had made Hawke as the guardswoman ran towards her and helped her up. She looked exhausted from that spell she had cast. She was definitely an odd mage, the first one he had ever met who went to such extraordinary lengths to hide what she was, but a mage nonetheless. Any mage was susceptible to becoming a power hungry monster; they were untrustworthy and dirty to him. Yet, looking at Hawke he did not see her as dirty, but he did not trust her one bit. He would have rather died than owe his life to a mage!

Her brother got up next to him, covered in blood. He grabbed a potion from his belt and gulped it down quickly whilst he began running to Hawke. She staggered when he helped her up, she took a few short breaths and let go of her brother's grasp.

_She did it to save her brother, not me._

He did not care for the mage or her entourage, his hunger for vengeance fogging over what had happened. He ran towards the room at the top of the hall, his hunger for the death of Danarius shadowed the welfare of anyone to Fenris. He smashed the door open with one swift kick of his foot, making the door swing open and bang against the stone wall.

The room was abandoned; it looked like no one had been there for months. Disappointment sunk into his gut as he checked the shadows in search for his former master as if there was a small chance he would be there. But Fenris knew Danarius and knew that he would have been in the centre of the battle, he would not hide from the opportunity to cage Fenris once again.

He returned back to the mage-Hawke- and her followers; the battle had taken all of his energy to fight. And now he was bound in shackles once more because this mage had saved his life, he could run away; he wanted to. Would she stop him? Would she enslave him to herself? He needed to go, that was what he knew.

"He is gone…It does not matter any longer, I assume Danarius has left valuables behind, you are welcome to them. I need some air," Fenris said as he approached the group, the mage was sat on one of the benches near the windows; the guardswoman knelt down next to her speaking with her whilst the warrior and the dwarf were speaking to each other in whispers. As he walked past he heard the warrior whisper "we don't need another Anders…"

He walked out into the night air and took a few deep breaths processing what had just happened. His former master still walked free and Fenris had been deceived by another mage and now owed her his life. He thought about running for a moment, and then remembered what the past six months had been like running from the hunters, he had to hide in the dirt and eat scraps of food he found on the floor, this was not the freedom he escaped for. He looked back at the door for a moment; maybe it would be better to make a stand. His former master would know he was in Kirkwall; he would wait for the bastard in his own mansion. He would sneer at Danarius as he walked in; sitting on his armchair like it was a throne. He would destroy him.

If he stayed he would have to repay the mage a debt, he may not have many things but if he did not repay her then it would haunt him that a mage had saved his life. He did not like being one upped by a mage.

From the corner of his eye he saw the mansion door open and Hawke and her companions walked out towards him. She seemed to be back to normal, walking towards him at a regular pace.

He spun around as she approached, readying himself to fight. He wanted to be able to control his hatred but he could not.

"It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burnt into my flesh and my soul and now I find myself in the company of yet another mage! I saw you cast that spell. I should have realised sooner what you really were," he spat at Hawke, hatred lacing his words.

She raised an eyebrow to him, but said countered his insult with nothing. Her face was a mask of indifference and calm, although he hated to admit it this worried him more than the hatred he expected to be spat back at him.

Fenris thought for a moment, looking at this woman who had not one sign of magic in her as she stood with her twin daggers on her back. It was strange to him that a mage would hide their self so much to the point where they did not even use their magic to aid them in battle.

He asked, "Tell me then. What kind of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

She looked at him with a coy grin on her face "Find out," she replied

He stared at her in frustration, was this just a game to her? Why was she so light hearted about the situation? It angered him that she joked about such things. Mages were not to be trusted. He bit his tongue, not wanting to release a triad of swear words from his mouth. Instead he decided that he would say something diplomatic, he was too tired for another fight this evening.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful, if so I apologize. Thank you for aiding me in the mansion," he replied, his body going stiff as he fought himself not to insult her.

"I do not use such extreme lengths often, to many people I am a lovable rogue not a…"she trailed off as if she did not want to label herself as such. She was indeed an odd mage.

"I still owe you a debt, here is the gold, as Anso promised," he said, she shook the pouch of gold away as he tried to offer it to her and he put it on his belt once more. The dwarf groaned as she did so.

He cursed and complimented her at the same time for her generosity; however that still meant that he owed her some form of debt and if she would not take the gold he had been saving then he had nothing left to offer her but his sword. It made him queasy that he would offer to aid a mage, but he stifled the sickness in his stomach with the thought that he would do it for the greater good and strike her down should she show any signs of being plagued by demons. He argued with himself for a few more moments and then decided his fate.

"I thank you, should you find yourself in assistance I would gladly render it," he said, not truly believing his own mouth.

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago," she replied

"You are not Danarius, whether you are like him remains to be seen," he said sharply, it was indeed a fact.

"Very well, I thank you," she said bluntly.

The dwarf coughed at her and she looked at him and back, realisation colouring her face and making her green eyes go wide.

"If you would like, we plan on journeying to Sundermount tomorrow, would you join us?" she asked, looking at him with wide green eyes.

Several arguments happened all at once in his head, but he silenced them all with the conclusion that when he had repaid his debt he would leave the mage be.

"I shall," was all that he could muster, there was something about the mage that made him shiver and he did not like it one bit.

"You can meet our group at the Hanged Man, although this does relieve Aveline of her duty thought I'm sure she's fine with that," Hawke said, cheerfully winking at the guardswoman who smiled at her.

"_Captain_ Aveline, Hawke," the red haired woman corrected her.

"I know of this place, I shall see you there," he stated coldly at her, he would not begin to trust this mage. He would repay his debt and leave her alone to her… magic.

"Indeed you shall," she said, walking off having the last word.

He went back into the mansion, the ice had melted leaving a pool of water and the bodies had disappeared as if the fade had clawed them back into the void. He climbed into the bed in the main room and remembered the trail of engorged icicles and dead demons that had been in the mansion not twenty minutes ago.

Tonight had been _very_ strange indeed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine- Sundermount**

**Cannot believe I've even got this far! Im not too bothered about reviews as this is more of a personal project for me to help with my writing skills. **

**Did I mention my beta reader? No? Well Enchantm3nt has been a very big help from the start! **

**Thank you for the review NecromancerLuna! :3**

**x**

He did not sleep that night, he couldn't, there was too much to think about, to worry over. Whatever satisfaction he had felt in defeating the slavers had been short lived when he realised Danarius was not in the city too. At least he still had his freedom though and now he had a mansion too. He was not used to having a roof over his head, a bed to lie on, a fire to warm himself with. It was nice and very strange. But of course he couldn't relax; not truly, there was always a worry at the back of his mind, a little voice telling him to stay alert, to keep moving. There was no way to know for sure all of the slavers had been dealt with and he had spent much of the night patrolling the perimeters and watching the courtyards below. Thoughts of the mage – Hawke – had been playing through his mind much of the night too, she was… an enigma and he quickly found himself frustrated by thoughts of her.

When dawn finally came he got himself ready for the day ahead. He wasn't sure what to make of this new group; he was so used to being alone. It would be good to have people to watch his back but at the same time it was just more people that could betray him. He didn't have to trust them to work with them though; he just needed to coin and to repay his debt to this Hawke woman. And should any of them try to betray him he had information on her, he doubted many in the city knew she was an apostate, he wouldn't have known if she hadn't saved her brother's life with her magic and inadvertently saved Fenris too. Despite not wanting to remain in Hawke's company he couldn't help but be a little curious – why didn't she use her magic? Why was her hair white?

_Venhedis! You are letting this mage make you weak!_

Remaining in the mansion thinking about a mage was _not_ how he wanted to spend his morning so he left for the Hanged Man. It didn't take long to reach Lowtown; the streets were quite quiet this early in the day. He walked in through the door, his nose crinkling slightly at the smell of stale sick that wafted through the air. He scanned the room but saw no sign of Hawke, he was about to leave when the dwarf he had met the day prior called out to him,

"Hey, uhh, Fenris, was it?" he asked and Fenris nodded in answer. "She's not here yet. Why don't you come into my room and meet the gang?"

Fenris followed the dwarf, albeit a little reluctantly, up the stairs at into the room at the top. There were several people gathered around a long table, an exhausted looking blond man who was nursing a warm beverage and a Rivaini woman who looked up at him before giving him a predatory smile.

"Oooh, this one is pretty, Varric," she cooed as she ran her eyes up him. Fenris cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

"Rivaini! Keep those metaphorical knickers on until Hawke gets here! And yes, we all know you don't wear a pair of the real ones you minx!" the dwarf joked.

"Well, Fenris. This lady to your right is Isabela. If you're up for some fun go to her but after I recommend you go to Anders here," he pointed at the blond man with the ponytail, "as he may have to get rid of a few hundred infections. He's our healer."

_Venhedis! Another mage. _

Fenris clenched his jaw and merely nodded to the man and woman he had just met. He would repay the debt and then he would leave. Hawke was obviously an idiot as well as a mage. Before Fenris could delve into his pool of hatred once again, the dwarf made him resurface.

"Elf, you look starved, have some bread," he said, pointing to the bowl of bread at the centre of the table.

Fenris did not need to be told twice, he grabbed a roll and began eating. It was delicious, soft and doughy with a crusty shell, heaven compared to the stale scraps he had been used to on the run. The healer, Anders was watching him as he ate, scrutinising him, Fenris stared him down until the mage turned away and listened to the dwarf chatting to the Rivaini woman.

He continued eating as he observed the others chatting, his perfectly sculpted self-control was the only thing stopping him from eating the entire bowl in one sitting. It had been so long since he had eaten food this good. Just as he grabbed another roll Hawke's brother and the Guard Captain entered the suite, greeting everyone with warm hellos before taking a seat.

The dwarf looked around the room, "Where is Hawke?" he asked

"She's been delayed by guardsman Perrin," her brother said, almost gleefully. The Hawke sibling's eyes immediately turned to the mage whose lips were mashed together tightly and eyes had become steely. Fenris sensed that it had given Carver great pleasure in telling the mage that Hawke had been delayed by another man.

"Oh, has she now?" Varric replied with a wicked grin on his face.

"Yes, he has expressed some interest in her," Aveline added to the gossip.

"And I wish him all the luck in the world, he'll need it with Aria," Carver chortled, accepting the beverage the dwarf had pointed out to him.

Hawke had never told him her first name, and it seemed only her family ever called her by it. The people of Lowtown spoke highly of Hawke but never of Aria. It didn't really sound menacing, Fenris thought logically. If Anso had told him that he had got the infamous Aria to aid him he would have smacked the dwarf there and then. It also confused him why her brother was not bothered that a man sought to have his way with his sister, he knew if he had one he would not let a man near unless their intent was pure. It seemed Carver Hawke was very much like his sister; odd.

"Oh and why is that, sweet cheeks? "Isabela purred as she gave him her best smile, throwing Carver off guard for a moment as if he was dazed.

"Ask her," Carver stated bluntly.

He heard Hawke's laughter above the noise of the bar, even though it was morning some patrons had come in to start the ale early.

"I'd rather not have my nose broken thank you," Varric chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

"I find a woman with a lot of secrets sexy, "Isabela thought out loud as if daydreaming of something involving her and Hawke. Fenris swallowed a lump in his throat at the very thought.

The guard captain snorted at Isabela. "You'd find anything with a pulse sexy, whore."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, man hands?" Isabela countered.

As if Hawke had been summoned by her name she sauntered into the room making everyone go silent. Fenris looked over at the mage and saw that he looked at Hawke with desire and admiration. Of course he would, an apostate would respect another apostate especially since Hawke was an infamous, deadly apostate. His skin started to crawl as he imagined Anders and Hawke and their apostate children.

"My ears are burning, were you all talking about me?" Hawke asked lightly as she sat down next to the healer, to his obvious delight.

"That depends, Hawke, was it your left or right ear burning?" Varric mused.

"Right is love, left is spite, right?" Aveline asked, obviously trying to remember the old saying.

Hawke chuckled. "What if it was both?"

Varric smirked. "Well then maybe you should get Blondie here to check them, you might be coming down with something."

"Or you're talking about me spitefully but in a loving way," Hawke grumbled with a smile.

Conversations began again and Fenris reached for the last bread roll at the same time Hawke did, their hands touched and they both recoiled in shock, horrified by the intrusive and sudden contact. He had not seen anyone but other slaves react to touch in such a way, whatever surprise had registered on her face faded within a blink of an eye and she went back to her conversation. But Fenris was left wondering why she despised being touched just as he did. He had never liked being touched, never wanted to be touched. He often watched people at Danarius' dinners touching, kissing, groping and laughing as they ate and drank in confusion. Touching others or being touched was always an uncomfortable experience for him and the last mage that had touched him had done so to abuse him, but Hawke's touch had been light, gentle and fleeting and the look on her face had mirrored his own. The question was: _why,_ why did she recoil like that? What other secrets was she hiding?

He watched her curiously; she really was an enigma, one he found himself wanting to unravel. He frowned slightly, _why_ did he care about this mage? He was here for coin, nothing else. But he couldn't help but notice how easily she spoke with her companions, how carefree she _seemed_, but she still remained distant, her chair was kept well away from the healer and she never touched him as they spoke despite the healer's animated hand movements.

Hawke turned to the dwarf with a grin on her face. "So do you have our supplies?" she asked

"Hawke! You wound me! When have I ever failed you?" Varric said with mock hurt.

"Never my handsome dwarf, never," she laughed, and everyone else joined in with her laugh as if was infectious.

"Well, we'll be making our way to the Dalish camp in about an hour, Fenris has kindly volunteered his services so Aveline, you are of course free to leave and get back to your duties whenever you like to. I would like to bring Anders and Varric, if you are up to it?" she said out loud for the group but turned her gaze to the other mage and the dwarf who both nodded.

Before she could say anymore her brother interrupted her, sounding somewhat annoyed. "I'm coming too, "he said, glaring at her for a moment.

"As you say," she merely replied, as if not wanting to argue with him or maybe she knew that even if she said no, her sibling would come with or without her permission.

There was a moment of silence in the room before Isabela spoke.

"So, Ser Perrin, ey?" she smirked at Hawke, obviously curious as to what had happened whilst she was at the bar.

"What about the guardsman?" Hawke replied.

"I hear he, ahem, delayed you from coming here?"

Fenris could tell that everyone in the room wanted to know what had gone on, it was Isabela who was cocky enough to question Hawke it seemed.

"Indeed. He asked me if I would like to go out for a drink sometime," she said, almost sighing at the thought.

"Well? "Isabela persisted.

"I told him that it was a lovely offer but I'm busy," she said gruffly, her eyebrow rising at Isabela's incredulous look.

"You're not always busy, Hawke!" she said, exasperated.

"Until my mother gets her home back, and my family are safe then and only then will I look after myself," Hawke's voice was becoming stern and Isabela obviously knew when to back down because after she had said that the Rivaini woman decided that her drink was worth her attention more.

He looked at Hawke as she played with her cup, everyone else was in animated conversation once more- but she seemed to be thinking hard about something. It was not like the young woman was short on offers yet she declined them all. She was an odd mage; she did not like to use her powers and she did not like to get close to many people it seemed.

They left sometime later after much more chatting and teasing than Fenris was used to, Danarius and his guests were always quite formal, even when they were being depraved and watching some poor slave be beaten to death as they ate their desert they were always courteous and well-mannered, but these new companions of his were unlike any he had ever experienced. It was both strange and enjoyable to listen to their conversations as they made their way to the Dalish camp. Fenris stayed back with the brother, Carver and Varric, not wanting to be near the mages. He did not trust them, they were vipers, capable of striking at any moment and they wielded unbelievable power, power that in the wrong hands was capable of great evil. He had seen such things over and over again in the Imperium, to find more mages here… he felt cursed and yet a small part of him was curious about Hawke, drawn to her almost, he wanted to know more, wanted to know her secrets, wanted to understand her. He had been trained to read people; he needed to know what his master wanted before his master did and that skill had served him well when on the run; he always knew when someone was about to betray him or if someone was lying to him. But Hawke was different. He could not read her, did not understand her and that made her more dangerous than most.

"I don't like the way he looks at her," Carver grumbled in a hushed tone to Varric

"Neither do I, Junior, but she's her own woman," Varric murmured, eyeing up the back of the male mage.

"I've seen him try to touch her and it makes me sick, he follows her around with obvious intent," Carver groused with obvious resentment for the mage in his voice.

"Well, I hope I'm there when he tries, there will be some fireworks. Shame as well, Blondie was telling me a few stories about his past travels, and I thought I exaggerated shit," the dwarf chortled, causing Hawke to glance over at him with a bemused expression.

Again he found himself wondering about Hawke's past, what had happened to her? What had she said to him the night before? _Find out._ How could he possibly 'find out' when she kept so many secrets? She was physically _here_ and yet she hid just about everything about herself, she was more guarded than Fenris himself.

_._

"You okay there, Broody?" the dwarf asked, staring at Fenris.

For a moment Fenris was confused as to who this Broody was, but the dwarf stared up at him expectantly and then he remembered that the dwarf had called the others by nicknames too. He frowned down at Varric.

.

"I do not brood, "Fenris said indignantly.

"Friend, if your brooding became any more impressive then women would swoon as you passed, and they would have broody babies in your honour," the dwarf quipped.

Fenris rolled his eyes. He had never met a funny dwarf before; then again he had not met a beardless dwarf either. Varric was against stereotypes it seemed.

"I thought all dwarves had beards?" Fenris asked, actually curious as to why this one did not.

"I left it, with my sense of dwarven pride and gold plated noble caste pin," the dwarf retorted, making the younger Hawke sibling chuckle.

"I thought maybe it fell onto your chest," Fenris countered, making Carver Hawke's chuckle become a fit of laughter and once again making Hawke turn around and look at the three men quizzically.

"Oho! The broody elf tells a joke," Varric grumbled and quickened his pace towards Hawke in annoyance as Carver still had not stopped laughing. Fenris was not used to speaking to anyone in such an informal way, if truth be told he thought he would not be able to hold such a conversation. He smiled as he watched the dwarf scuttle to Hawke to tell on him as if she were his mother and smiled. _Maybe I am better at this than I thought. _

They continued walking until evening, and Fenris found himself quite amused by the strange dwarf. He enjoyed the banter that he and the dwarf shared, and it was satisfactory to watch the dwarf counter his insults and for him to fire them right back on the dwarf. Fenris felt at ease with Varric, he could even describe it as fun, he thought to himself as he started setting up his tent with great difficulty. He looked over to see that the rest of the men of the group were still struggling with their tents and cursing the cloth as they kept attempting to tie the ropes together. However it seemed that Hawke did not need any help, and she had begun on the fire which she had started to do naturally without the aid of magic, this surprised Fenris even more he thought, as he watched her go get more firewood.

The dwarf seemed to have no issue with the tent either, maybe it was because he was about as big as the tent itself or maybe it was just because he was a dwarf. Dwarves were renowned for being good at making and fixing things. Maybe he was that kind of dwarf?

"Hey Varric, do you mind helping me out?" Carver asked, throwing the string and the wooden pole on the floor defiantly.

"Sure Junior, but it's gonna cost you something," the dwarf replied, his eyebrows waggling.

"What's it going to cost?" Carver asked cautiously as if he already suspected the dwarf's intentions.

"A little information, on your sister," the dwarf replied almost sweetly.

"What's wrong with your splendid spy network?" Carver asked, obviously debating with himself.

Varric ignored Carver's question and continued "So our fearless leader, what was she like as a teenager?"

"Complete opposite to what you see now, really. She was girly, liked wearing dresses and used to plait her hair and sing in the taverns for money… and that's all you're getting! Now help me with this blighted tent," Carver snapped, looking at the tent furiously as if he was trying to tap into the long line of magic that ran in his family and use it to make the tent assemble itself.

The mage had given up doing his own tent and walked over to the dwarf and the young warrior as if speaking about Hawke summoned him to come closer.

"She sings?" he asked Carver, who was holding a wooden pole whilst the dwarf started working on the tent.

"Yes." Carver stated bluntly and continued to help the dwarf erect his tent.

Fenris looked down at his own tent and began to try and work out how to do it, he kept stealing glances at the dwarf but could not copy his technique and his pride would not allow him to ask for help.

Hawke returned to the camp with a pile of firewood and started to make the fire, she turned around and noticed that the mage's tent was not assembled and began to help him whilst he showered her with thank you's.

After she had completed the mage's tent she continued working on the fire. Fenris felt bitter about it but he had never had the luxury of sleeping in a tent before and decided that he would know no difference if he slept on the floor like he had done for the past six months.

Once the fire was strong, Hawke peered over at the group. She cocked her head over at Fenris and his unmade tent, and got up and walked towards him. Fenris expected her to come up and mock him for being insufficient at making his own tent. He thought about how Danarius had watched him move his cargo on a ship once, and when he had dropped a box his former master had laughed cruelly to his fellow magisters and turned to Fenris with a vicious gleam in his eye "my little Fenris, he's that stupid he doesn't even know how to lift boxes. You will always be nothing but a killer won't you?"

The words still rung in his mind as if had just been said and his eyes narrowed as Hawke stood before him.

"Do you need help?" she asked, a smile on her face as she nodded at the tent.

Fenris wanted to spit insults at her, he wanted to tell her that he needed no help from a mage but instead he grunted at her and nodded and then turned her back to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hawke asked, and even though Fenris knew it wouldn't happen his stomach turned as if he was about to receive a beating.

"I am allowing you to do my tent as you asked," Fenris almost spat at her.

"No, that's not how it works. I will help you do it this time, and show you how to do it. If I don't show you then how will you learn to do it in the future?" she said, moving her fringe from one of her green eyes.

He grunted his acceptance again and she began to do his tent, showing him what to do. After she had done the first pole she offered him the second to do himself. He had watched her do it step by step and when he finished his tent he was almost proud of himself to the point where he nearly smiled. He looked at Hawke and she smiled at him for a second and then turned back to the fire to prepare the food.

He watched her as she stirred the pot on the fire, she seemed at home by the fire humming to herself, he tried to imagine this strange mage as her brother had described before and failed. He could not picture this mage with white hair tied in a bun and a patchwork dress singing along the coast. It just did not fit this woman that he saw now, white hair tied up and green eyes looking at the pot and then out into the shadows as if looking for threats and her translucent skin as if she did not eat properly.

After food was made and eaten, they sat down and warmed themselves by the fire. Fenris sat the on far end, closer to the dwarf rather than the mage and Hawke. As the fire began to dim the dwarf grumbled and shouted over to the mage who was sat watching Hawke talk to her brother naturally and closer than she ever sat with anyone else.

"Oi, Blondie! Do some of your hocus pocus shit and make the fire warm again!" Varric shouted over to the mage who scowled at his nickname.

"Or you could get off your ass and maybe throw some wood on the fire instead of me doing my _hocus pocus shit _or ask Hawke if she'll do it," the mage said, making Hawke break out of her conversation with Carver and death glaring the mage and Varric.

"I lack hocus pocus," she snapped at the both of them before the dwarf could even ask.

"Hawke, try as you might but you are a mage! I don't understand why you would hide such power," the mage asked, almost pleading for Hawke to demonstrate some magic to him.

She started to look annoyed but not angered by the other mage's outburst, she rolled her eyes which made both her brother and the dwarf smirk and replied "My powers are gone, I have none. Can you not just accept that I am who I want to be instead of denying me such freedom?" leaving the mage to think about her words.

Hawke, it seemed was a wise woman. Her words rang true in Fenris' mind. He was born a slave but he wanted to be a free man and yet there was people like that idiotic mage that would deny him such a freedom. As he looked at Hawke for a moment and realised that even though she was a mage she did not choose to be and she denied her birth right as much as she could. Yet, the memory of her power in the mansion swam back into his mind and he became curious.

"And what of the magic you performed last night?" he asked her, his words causing the other mage to almost jump for joy at the fact she had used magic.

"I do not deny that it is a part of me, but I do not use it to my every whim, magic is something to fear as well as something to wonder. You and my brother were in peril, I would do it again without regret," she replied to him, looking at him with sombre green eyes.

She seemed exhausted as if she had not slept for days, she did not flash anyone coy grins or laugh like she had the other night when he asked her for her aid. Fenris wondered how much the ice that she had summoned had to do with it.

_I do not deny that it is a part of me but I do not use it to my every whim. _

He pondered on her words whilst the mage and Hawke argued about her heritage and her birth right for what seemed like hours, eventually the mage must have tired because when he looked up from the nearly exhausted fire he saw that there was only Hawke and himself still awake.

"You've been staring at that fire for a long time I wondered for a moment if you were trying to pool all your mental energy together to relight it," she chuckled, piling the bowls together and putting them neatly next to the pot that was now empty of any food. Fenris' stomach growled, the food was good and he could have eaten everyone's.

"I-uh, was just thinking," he said, looking at her dart about almost humming as she cleaned the campsite. Now he could see her as some farmer's wife, singing in the taverns with a lute and cleaning the house and tending to the needs of her horde of children and her husband. He almost laughed, something Fenris had not done for most of his life. She sat down on the ground next to him, leaving a gap between them also.

"Your former master is going to a great length to seek you out," she said, looking at him intensely, it felt as if she was almost trying to read his mind.

"Yes, he is," Fenris stated, he did not really want to answer her questions.

"Is it something to do with those markings?" she asked.

"Yes, from what you saw from last night you know they are not just tattoos. They are lyrium branded into my flesh, and my very soul it seems," he replied.

He remembered a dark room, with just a tiny square window allowing light in. The artisans of Tevinter sliced into his skin and seasoned him with lyrium dust which was agonisingly painful, then as the dust burnt into his flesh they poured lyrium into the wounds and it felt as if his bones had turned to ash. He remembered clumps of his own hair falling out onto the floor and when they had finally finished he lay on the concrete floor and writhed in pain for what seemed to be days.

"That's awful."

Spare me your pity," he spat at her.

"I didn't say I _pitied_ you, I said that what happened to you was awful," she countered calmly.

He observed this woman for a moment, considering her words.

"I remember nothing of my life before, the ritual that gave me these markings wiped away my memories. One of my earliest memories is of my master leering over me, stroking my markings. I have only ever known slavery; it is why I hate mages. For the good mages are _capable_ of the terrible things they can do so easily outweighs them. It is so easily for a cornered mage to turn to a demon, to blood magic, to become an abomination. I have seen magisters do deplorable things for _fun_."

"You said _can do_, not all mages are like those magisters. And don't you think I know what can happen better than most? But I know it won't," she replied haughtily like she had done with the the other mage when questioned about her magic.

"Denying your magic won't stop the demons from coming for you and you still use your magic when necessary, what if it becomes necessary to ask a demon for help?"

"Using my magic to save my brother and you is _not_ the same as asking a demon for help. I do not use my magic often, hence why I collapsed."

He let the silence between them linger before speaking again, "You are a very strange mage."

"I get that a lot."

They sat in silence for a while longer; he turned to Hawke and saw her watching the embers of the fire obviously lost in thought at the memory of something. Fenris tried to bring himself to despise this mage but he could not. He saw that she meant him no harm, no matter what argument he put in front of himself. It didn't mean he had to trust her however.

"I would go to sleep, Fenris, me and Varric are keeping watch then we will change over and you will watch with Carver," she said after what seemed like decade.

"What of the other mage? Why does he not keep watch?" Fenris asked, he almost hissed it at her.

"Anders is our healer; we need him awake and alert if something was to happen." She stood up and then lingered for a moment giving him one last stare "You should go to sleep," she said.

"Indeed, "he replied curtly bowing his head and walked towards his tent.

He lay on the bed roll for a while, trying to get to sleep. He heard Hawke starting to hum and listened to that for a moment before his eyes would not stay open a moment longer.

In what felt like minutes he heard a grunt coming from one of the tents close by, and then just before he could get up off of his back, Varric popped his head into the tent a big grin on his face. Fenris raised an eyebrow at the odd dwarf who at the moment looked like he had no body to belong to.

"Get up Broody, I need my beauty sleep!" Varric said, grinning widely.

Fenris stretched his arms, still eyeing the dwarf and remarked, "You will be sleeping for long time, dwarf, before that face is beautiful."

Varric rolled his eyes and removed his head from Fenris' tent, obviously too tired to come up with a witty retort. Fenris listened to the dwarf crawl into his own tent and a few moments later he was snoring loudly. Fenris exited his tent and shivered slightly as he adjusted to the cool night air. Hawke was lying by the dying dire, snoring quietly. He frowned slightly; she would catch a cold staying out here like that. He approached her but someone grabbed his shoulder; he turned and grabbed them.

"Don't touch my sister," Carver whispered harshly and Fenris released his grip on him.

"She is on the floor."

Carver shrugged. "At least she is sleeping though."

Fenris nodded in reply and took a seat by a tree as Carve sat on the opposite side of their camp. It was a quiet night but Carver's eyes darted around, always listening, always alert, he was so protective of her, not that it really seemed like she needed the protection.

He watched the sun rise; its yellow light bathed the camp with warmth, a stray ray of light landed on Hawke's white hair and made it shimmer in the gentle breeze. It reminded him of his first dawn as a free man, although at the time he was simply stranded, left behind by his master. He had watched the ocean's glistening waters until Danarius' ship disappeared on the horizon. This daw could not have been more different, it brought a new day, a new day with a new mage, one who was still a total puzzle to him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten**

**Sundermount part two**

**So, time for Merril! Apologies to Merril fans, but it's not in her point of view as she isn't my favourite character ****L**

**Thanks for the reviews/follows! **

**My beta, as always is fabulous. Enchantm3nt 3**

He pulled a part his tent, doing the reverse of what Hawke had taught him the night before. It was still quite early and the morning sun glistened off of the dewy leaves and grass blades surrounding the clearing they were camped in. Fenris glanced at the sleeping form of Hawke; she was curled up by the nearly burned out fire. He could hear her light snores and could see that she had been there long enough for her white hair to turn grey from the fire's ash. Nobody woke her up but all of the men in their group kept glancing over at her. Once done with his own tent he joined Varric to help him bring his down. "Thanks, Broody. I bet you're wondering why we're all tip-toeing around Hawke like this," Varric said as he passed him one of the tent poles.

Fenris merely nodded at the dwarf.

"It's the first time she's slept in a while," Varric explained. "She's been a pain in the ass because of it so we're all hoping she sleeps for a while, she needs it." He finished disassembling his tent and Fenris got the distinct feeling that Varric wanted to jump into some elaborate story but then Hawke began to stir before she nodded off again.

He sat down staring at Hawke whilst he tried to figure out what her true intentions were, whatever she intended, she looked somewhat innocent whilst she slept, you couldn't tell by looking at her that she was a viper, an apostate, a mage. Maybe her intentions were initially pure, but all mages would stray; it was only a matter of when. .

"Did you hear that broody?" the dwarf asked, pulling him out of his thoughts

He looked up at the dwarf who was watching him with knowing eyes, he wondered if another one of the dwarf's talents was that he could read minds.

"Sorry?" was all Fenris could muster, he was starving and tired and the dwarf was annoying.

"Me and the other boys are going to get firewood, you can sit here and brood into oblivion and also make sure Hawke doesn't ruin the fire or become an abomination, but mainly the rolling into the fire part because I've kind of got used to the luxury of breakfast," Varric said with twinkling eyes. Fenris knew the dwarf was mocking him but could not be bothered to play their little game knowing that the dwarf was eager for a reaction.

Fenris nodded and watched as the other men proceeded into the woods to gather firewood, leaving him alone with the slumbering woman. He eyed her apprehensively, as if she were a bomb instead of a woman who could wake up at any moment.

He watched as Hawke began to move more vigorously and became extremely close to the now completely dead fire. He argued with himself as she moved any nearer and decided that he would try and move her, he deliberated for a moment how he was going to do this without touching her but before he could think anymore her eyes snapped open and she looked at him with such a scared expression it made Fenris jump back in the shock of it.

"What in the Void do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"You were tossing and turning in your sleep, the dwarf insisted that I make sure you did not roll into the fire or become an abomination,," Fenris explained, even though he had been free for a while now he still panicked at raised voices and made his excuses quickly as if he was waiting for the inevitable punishment.

She nodded and looked at her fringe with a sigh, attempting to rid her hair of the ash that had settled on it as she sat down. She gestured at the place next to her and he sat down making sure there was a decent gap between them. He observed her brush the ashes out of her with her fingers, her eyes locked in concentration.

She looked free of all her worries whilst she did it; almost happy. He wondered if Hawke had ever truly looked like that, but he imagined that her life had been nought but a struggle. The way her younger brother protected her as if she was a piece of fabric-easy to rip and soft- it made Fenris wonder what had happened to her. Not only that but she knew how to use her magic, it was not that she was untrained in sorcery, but she did not wield it so willingly like he had seen countless mages before do, it made him wonder what had happened to this woman to make her so reserved.

It reminded him a little bit of himself; he thought almost feeling sick as he noted their similarities.

_No, you are not the same, you did not choose to have this hatred burnt into your being, Hawke chose to be as she is. _

He observed the woman for another moment, her brow furrowed as she was becoming increasingly annoyed with the stubborn dirt in her hair.

_Maybe she did not have a choice?_

"I'd wash it out, but I really can't be bothered," Hawke said, tying all of her hair into a bun quickly as if due to habit.

Fenris merely nodded, it seemed all he could do. He could not think of anything to say to what she had stated. He had not attempted to make light conversation for years and was more than rusty in that area it seemed, unless it was bantering with the dwarf, Varric.

He looked at her hair, and wondered if that was her natural colour. When he was under his master's rule he would watch as Hadriana experiment with dying her hair and she had made it into all sorts of extravagant colours; it had become a growing fashion trend in Tevinter.

"Did you dye your hair that colour?" he found himself asking, his mouth betraying his mind.

"I had the red streak done at Ostagar, one of the Circle mages I became friends with there did it for me. It was either that or have matching barking mabari's with Carver," she said wrinkling her nose at the thought.

"You were at Ostagar? I have heard stories of that place and none of them are good," Fenris replied, trying to picture Hawke as a soldier. It puzzled him that she only mentioned that the red streak in her hair was dyed in and not the rest of her white hair but he did not pursue it.

"Yeah, well Carver decided he wanted to fight and I couldn't leave him alone, "she said, her eyes were concentrating back onto her fringe.

So it seemed that Hawke protected Carver just as much as he protected her. Fenris found it strange that these two siblings relied on each other. The thought of relying on someone to him was nothing more than a weakness to him.

"And who looked after your parents whilst you went to war?" he asked, curious to the answer.

"My father died before the Blight, and my mother was being protected by our sister Bethany, who died by the hands of a darkspawn ogre," Hawke said, almost coldly, it suggested to him she had to recite this line many times.

"I am sorry," Fenris felt bad for the woman, she seemed to have lost a lot.

"Why are you sorry? Did you kill them?" she replied bitterly, the ice in her voice sending shivers down Fenris' back. She observed him for a moment and then shook her head.

"I apologise, my family are a very touchy subject for me. But a change of topic if that's okay? Are you excited to see the Dalish?" she asked, an amused expression now colouring her face.

Fenris was confused, why would he be excited to see the Dalish? And then it clicked, because he was an elf she would immediately think that he would want to find a place to belong amongst the Dalish. In fact everything he had heard about the Dalish elves he had not liked, their halla's and the way they lived and their flimsy attitude to nature. He also did not like how he was told that the Dalish had _frolics_ where they all touched and pleasured each other it reminded him of the magisters in Tevinter touching each other. He shuddered at the thought.

"No, I am not excited to be amongst the Dalish. I am merely an elf aesthetically it would seem," he replied stiffly.

"Oh and there I was thinking you looked like you'd fit right in with them, I can just see you doing a dance around the fire," she laughed, giving him a coy wink.

"That would be about as likely as you dancing with a Templar, "he replied sarcastically.

"And what would you say if I've already done that?" she laughed.

"I would say once more; you are a strange mage."

Before she could reply to him, the other men from their party returned, the mage and her brother both carrying firewood whilst the dwarf held what Fenris counted to be about five sticks. They threw the wood where the fire used to be, the dwarf looked at the male mage expectantly who rolled his eyes and clicked his fingers, summoning a roaring fire. He winked at Hawke who replied with an amused grin. The dwarf began to ready the food to be cooked whilst the mage sat down next to Hawke.

"You know you don't have to click your fingers to make the fire appear, "she said, looking at him in amusement.

"Sweetheart, it's just no fun without the theatrics," the blond mage winked at her and she rewarded him with another grin.

Hawke took over tending to the food on the fire, and Varric had decided to annoy her by explaining step by step how to cook meat _properly _for a good ten minutes. He could see that this was annoying Hawke and was shocked when after no more than fifteen minutes of this dwarf's intentionally goading she began to swear rather loudly at the dwarf who looked at her with a bemused smile.

"Listen to me you short stacked nug humping saggy left tit of Andraste, you will have your blighted food cooked as it comes, what the fuck do I look like to you? Do I look like a chef or a fucking warrior?" she snapped, glaring at the dwarf after he told her that she was doing it all wrong for the fourth time.

"Oi, Junior you owe me money!" the dwarf called over to Carver who had taken to watch the swearing commence from a safe distance from his sister. Carver groaned at the dwarf who chuckled victoriously. Hawke narrowed her gaze at the dwarf for a moment as he shot her a devious grin, then shook her head in defeat, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Varric, one day you are going to wake up with a moustache and no chest hair, "she chuckled.

"How's about I buy you a mug of ale from my winnings? Won't that put me back in your good graces, my dear lady? Varric said sincerely. Fenris had a suspicion that Varric was barely ever sincere.

"Call it two and you have a deal," she laughed, taking the meat off of the fire.

"You drive a hard bargain, my friend," he chortled.

She passed them all a plate of food, all with equal shares of the meat. Fenris looked at the meal gratefully. She did not have to cook food for him, he would have happily caught his own or done what he had for the past six months and starved.

She was a good cook; he gave her that as he took a bite out of the food. It was delicious, he had never tasted meat so good or it might have been the fact he just never had such a quantity of meat before. He had been thrown the scraps of it at the feasts Danarius held for his fellow magisters but most of the time he was nit-picking at the bones, there was never much left.

For a short while they ate in silence, and then Varric and Hawke decided to banter at each other whilst they disassembled the rest of the camp. It seemed the dwarf did this with everyone.

Fenris walked with the dwarf when they had begun travelling again, he was locked in his own thoughts and not truly listening to the outside world until he heard Carver hissing, peaking his curiosity.

"I don't care for this spirit of Justice crap, he's told her, you know," Carver huffed, watching the mage speak to his sister with narrowed eyes.

"Blondie's fine enough, it's just when Justice rears its ugly head," Varric replied, taking the neutral stance it seemed.

"Sister assures me it's not a demon, but still. I think it's creepy that you're talking to two people technically," Carver moaned, looking at the mage and his sister with obvious discomfort.

Fenris had heard enough, he wanted to know what this was about; especially when it involved mages.

"What is this you speak of?" Fenris asked, Carver turning and eyeing him for a moment.

"Let's just make this the short story, the mage –Anders- has a little spirit friend called Justice and when Justice sees something bad happen to mages he comes out to play," Varric explained.

"A demon? And he is allowed to walk amongst us?" Fenris almost growled, looking at the mage with hatred rather than just a strong dislike. It made his blood boil.

"It's not a demon, Broody, like I said, it's a spirit. They met a while back and now they've joined together to bring justice to the mages," Varric said raising his arms dramatically.

Fenris snarled, the dwarf was tiptoeing round the subject when he wanted answers. He almost roared as he walked up to Hawke and the… abomination, startling them both.

"Is it true what I hear? You are an abomination?" Fenris asked the male mage, his voice becoming almost feral. The abomination looked at him as if he was no more than something he had trodden on.

"Why don't you shout? I'm sure there are people in Ferelden that didn't hear you!" he retorted.

"Do you see yourself as harmless then? Are you an abomination that would never harm anyone?" he snarled, his hatred was dragging him back and instead of the abomination's face he saw Danarius, stood there mocking him. His perfect self-control began to ebb away.

"What like ripping someone's heart out?" the mage snapped back at him, his hand tensing his staff. They were all the same; he was foolish to have thought this time would have been any different. The abomination was readying himself for a fight and so he should.

"I did that at the behest of no demon," he roared, his lyrium lighting up.

He was foolish to think there could be an exception; mages wanted nothing more than the power to do as they wished, whether gained by blood or spirits.

"Oh good, so we agree that it doesn't take a demon to be a monster," the abomination practically screamed, raising his staff.

_Faasta Vas, go on you pathetic maleficar. _

Hawke stood in between them, her eyes were narrowed, but she did not show any expression of hate towards him. He readied his sword for a fight nonetheless.

"Broody, I don't think you should even try that," Varric said from behind him, he could almost feel the crossbow aimed at him.

Hawke studied him for a moment and turned her head slightly to the mage and her brother.

"Anders, carry on walking with my brother," she said. The mage hesitated and then nodded. Carver looked as if he was about to argue with his sister but the look on her face was positively feral. The pair walked off, leaving Fenris alone with Varric and Hawke.

"Anders is not a demon, he has some strange circumstances but he will not harm any of us," she said, her daggers in her hands.

"He is possessed by a spirit; eventually he will doom us all!" Fenris argued.

"And when that day comes, Fenris, then you may happily kill him," she said, her determined face staring at him, she was ready for the fight it seemed.

"And what if I'm not planning on staying?" he asked snarling.

"Then broody, I will hire a tracker to find you and bring you back here just so you get to slaughter him," Varric laughed behind him.

Fenris debated for a few moments. He owed this woman a debt, and he would see it done with before he left. But then he found himself wondering if he actually wanted to leave, he was tired of running around the world just to start the cycle all over again and become hunted. He needed somewhere he could make his final stand, what was the point of freedom if you were constantly running? He could have allies here it seemed.

He flung his sword onto his back and lifted his arms in defeat. He would watch this disgustingly weak mage and when he had the opportunity he would rip his heart out. Hawke kept her weapons close to her as she stared at him, a violent gleam in her eyes.

"I will have your word, that you will not hurt Anders unless he gives you good reason," she said.

"You have it, Hawke, but the mage _will_ give me reason," Fenris replied.

Did she care for the abomination? Is that why she spoke to him in deep conversation and walked ahead of the others?

She turned around and walked off in the same direction that the other two men had.

When they had caught up to her and the two other men the walk became silent, occasionally Varric would try and shoot a Templar joke at the abomination who would merely shake his head. The dwarf remained silent until they were closer to the camp.

"So, Hawke, fancy a bet?" the dwarf challenged, looking up at Hawke who was about three foot taller than him.

"It depends what it is," she replied, looking at the dwarf suspiciously. Fenris could understand why she gave him such a look, he was pretty sure whatever the dwarf did; he cheated.

"How's about whoever can get the best kill on the way home wins?" the dwarf said an evil smile painting his sincere face. Fenris rolled his eyes.

"And what do we win?" she asked

"Well, if I win I want you to pick up the lute and sing me a good old song preferably ones about a handsome dwarf with manly chest hair," Varric replied his eyes twinkling.

She stopped walking and turned quickly on her heel. She looked bewildered for a moment, as if this was odd and then realisation hit her face like a wave. She turned and looked at her brother; it was obvious to her who had betrayed her.

"CARVER!" she exclaimed, and she lurched at him, making them both fall to the ground. She began a flurry of punches, but none of them hard enough to draw blood. The two siblings rolled in the mud play fighting each other and when they had both finished they were both laughing at themselves. Fenris' eyebrows raised as he looked at them incredulously, the legendary smuggler and her warrior brother rolled around like they were children? He had not heard of this in any of the stories of Hawke.

Hawke got up and held her hand out so Carver could get up too. They both had childish grins on their faces, giving the impression that this happened often with the Hawke siblings. Before they could continue a voice echoed out of the woodland.

"Hold, Shemlen, your kind are not welcome amongst the Dalish," the voice hissed from the shadows of the trees.

Fenris grabbed his sword and squinted his eyes at the woods as if trying to make out what or who was residing in there.

"Well, I'm not expecting tea and cakes I just want to see someone," Hawke replied nonchalantly.

As soon as Hawke had replied, soft thuds came from the shadows confirming whoever it was had jumped down. Three elves all equipped with bows and swords emerged from the shadows, eyeing Hawke like prey as they walked towards her.

The tallest male elf seemed to be the leader of the small group; he looked Hawke up and down as if readying himself to fight. "There is nothing here for humans," he hissed. The female to his left looked at Hawke curiously as she smiled back at them sweetly. Fenris did not trust Hawke's sweet smile he feared it was much like Varric's sincerity.

"Wait, this is the one the keeper spoke of," the elven woman said to her leader.

"A shemlen? I thought she would be an elf," the male replied, looking at Hawke almost disgusted. "Enter the camp; Keeper Marathari has been waiting for you,"

"Why thank you," Hawke replied, flashing a grin at them as she walked past.

Fenris felt no sense of his elven heritage when they walked into the camp, they seemed far too self-righteous to say that they were once at the top of everything and they'd plummeted to the bottom, they did not really have a right to be so high and mighty about themselves and yet they were. The elves around the camp looked at the group with cold eyes and Fenris felt the prickle of arrows pointed at him as he walked.

"Don't you just love their hospitality?" Hawke asked amused.

The Keeper was the oldest in the camp; her face was decorated in golden tattoos that swirled around her wrinkling face. She was looking into the fire until she turned and gazed at Hawke intensely as if she knew Hawke would be coming.

"Keeper Marathari, I was told to bring you this amulet," Hawke said politely. She passed a small amulet to the keeper who looked at it with knowing eyes, and passed it straight back to Hawke.

"Andaran atish'an travellers, indeed I am Keeper Marathari, let me look at you," she pointed to Hawke and beckoned her forward. Hawke walked closer to the elven keeper, who examined her face.

"There is a light in your heart human, but it is caged. Do not let the light go out, for you will need it," she said, her tone serious. "Tell me how this burden fell to you?"

"A dragon fell from the sky, charred some darkspawn and then asked me to bring you this amulet…No big deal," she joked.

Fenris felt his eyebrows climb to the top of his forehead. Was this true? Had a dragon really done this? Or did the rolling around the dirt do something to Hawke's head. He looked at her companions in disbelief and was stunned when her brother gave him a nod, confirming it was the truth.

"You are blessed by luck then, may Mithral watch over you. The amulet must be taken to an old burial site at the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed then you must return the amulet to me," the keeper said, her eyes watching Hawke. "Do this and your debt will be repaid,"

"Are you going to teach me this rite?" Hawke asked, confused. It was obvious to him that there was something more to this amulet and Hawke must have been very naïve to think that it would just be a simple delivery.

"I will send my first with you; she will see to it that the ritual is done. And when it is complete, I must ask that you take her back with you," the Keeper said, her grey eyes still staring at Hawke, not even acknowledging any of the other party members.

Hawke's expression became painted confusion. "That seems a little odd," she remarked, as the keeper nodded with agreement.

"It is her wish, and I must grant it, "the Keeper said sadly. "You will find Merrill waiting for you just past the trail up the mountain, Dareth Shiral,"

"Ma Nuvenin, dareth falon,"

If he had not watched it come out of Hawke's mouth he would not have believed what she had just said. He noticed how the younger Hawke rolled his eyes at his sister; it was obviously something she showed off about.

"I think you are the first human I've heard to speak elvehn," Fenris said, trying to recall another time.

"I don't know all of it, when the Dalish came near my home in Lothering; I made friends with some of them and they taught me some of their language and I gave them cookies," she replied coolly, as if she was discussing the weather rather than she was good friends with a race that had been segregated for the past two millennia.

"You gave them cookies?" Fenris asked incredulously.

_I think I'd rather believe the dragon story._

"Yes, you know cookies… biscuits with chocolate in them? Apparently they'd never had chocolate before so it's no wonder these lot are so grumpy," she tittered, her head nodding back to the Dalish camp.

So many things were strange about Hawke, and the more he got to know her the more he realised that they would certainly be stranger. She was rather charming and accepting to everyone she met, it was a shame that her nature made no exceptions to abominations.

They travelled a little further on into the trail and found the elf the Keeper had told them about.

She stood next to a large boulder, with her eyes darting to and thro, fidgeting excessively, as if she could not stay still. She seemed to be lost in thought, as she did not look up when they approached, but moved her short beaded black hair from her face as if it were annoying her.

Hawke walked up to her, a smile on her face as she looked at the female elf.

"Oh! I didn't hear! You must be the one the Keeper told me about!" she said, looking at Hawke with huge orb like eyes. "I'm so sorry; I didn't ask your name! Unless… it's not rude to ask a human their name? I'm Merrill, which you probably already knew! I'm sorry… I'm rambling." She seemed extremely nervous and jittery. Fenris did not trust nor like _jittery._

Hawke smiled at her kindly, "You'll have to work harder than that to offend me, and my name is Hawke,"

Merrill smiled at her gratefully and replied, "Thank you, I am afraid I am not very experienced with your kind," she explained, a slight blush on her face as she looked at Hawke. "Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

Hawke smiled at her again, as if this elf was some sort of cute little puppy.

"Ah, I miss the cold, and the dirt of Ferelden. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me, but hey, no darkspawn," Hawke sighed as she wrinkled nose. Fenris watched her nose, confused as to why she did it. Did the memory of Ferelden make her nose twitch as if she could smell the dirt and the cold? Or was it because she remembered the smell of the darkspawn?

The small elf woman seemed to feel more at ease with Hawke as she exclaimed "Ferelden wasn't that brown! The dirt and muck gave it character, I think! We should go… Your task if for Asha'bellanar and it is not wise to make her wait," a serious tone coloured her voice.

Fenris followed Hawke and her companions as they moved up the mountains; she was busy chatting to the elf woman when all of a sudden she let out a gasp.

"I thought I recognised you! You're Tamlen's friend! Where is he?" she said excitedly, her eyes lit with happiness.

"Hawke, do you have an elven lover you never told us about?" Varric asked, his eyebrows waggling and then when no answer came from Hawke he looked at her brother who did not answer but just winked. So, Hawke had a lover? Did this new information shock him? He did not understand why his stomach suddenly felt queasy as if someone had stuck a knife in it and stirred the contents of it round until he felt almost sea-sick.

"You… you know of Tamlen?" Merril asked her, her voice sad.

"Yes, he was a dear friend to me. He helped me learn elven in exchange for cookies," she said, her face animated. This Tamlen must have been very dear to Hawke because she seemed almost hyperactive at the thought of him. He wondered if Hawke had ever really been the boring young girl Carver described or it was merely an act for her family.

"Tamlen is no longer with us," Merril said, Hawke's smile disappeared as soon as she said it.

When they reached the top of the trail, rumblings from the ground put Fenris on edge. Just as they were about to enter the cave to get to the summit of the mountain, skeletal hands clawed their way up from the ground, snarling at them with their rusted weapons ready.

Hawke drew her daggers, and shot Fenris a vivacious grin.

The skeletons were easy work; they were merely bodies with no mind left within them. He noticed that the elven woman had taken out her staff and was chanting out elven. As Fenris slashed the last of them with his great sword he groaned out loud at the thought of being surrounded by three apostates. It was bad enough when it was one.

As they continued through the caves he felt the elven mage stare at him, he turned to face and raised his eyebrow and snarled, "What?" at her.

He had quite enough of mages for the rest of his life and when he had repaid this debt he would- he would? What would he do? He had nowhere to go, nowhere to flee to. He looked at Hawke for a moment; she was the only ally he seemed to have. This was not what he had expected from his freedom, being trapped in a cave with three mages a warrior and a dwarf. It seemed like the start of a very bad joke.

"You and Hawke have the same hair," she said, looking at him with a scared expression.

"Well done," he grunted, glaring at her with dislike.

_A mage and an idiot, those two never go well together._

"You almost match," she said, making the abomination who was walking behind her snort in disgust.

Fenris shot a glare at the mage before growling, "we do not match in anyway, mage,"

"It is a Dalish custom when you are married to match is some way, most people go for tattoos instead of hair though," she said, he could feel her beginning to ramble as he glared at her, his lyrium almost humming with annoyance. "I'll just shut up," she said and scurried back to Hawke who looked at Fenris and then back at Merril, shaking her head. She instantly cheered the elvehn girl up by speaking about her time with the Dalish in Ferelden.

As they neared the exit they were blocked in by a nest of large spiders, behind him he could hear the younger Hawke sibling moaning at the sight of them. He raised his sword at the sight of the arachnids and charged.

Hawke followed behind him and took to fighting next to him, darting in and out of the swings of the great sword as if she knew where it would strike next. It almost felt normal to have this rogue at his back, slashing the spider's legs whilst arrows rained down on them and the earth shook at the elven mage's command. The abomination was throwing spells left right and centre, aiming them near Hawke as if he was doing all in his power to make sure she wouldn't be injured.

He felt a rush as he and Hawke fought, it was odd to be able to work with someone so naturally. She rolled and flipped around him in perfect harmony.

"Whew, that was quite a show!" Varric shouted at them, whilst helping Merril up who had fallen down in fright when a spider had jumped her from behind.

"Shame your brother is terrified of spiders, although you did pretty well on your own Hawke," the abomination said, his eyes glowing with praise. He failed to mention that she worked alongside Fenris.

"Oh that has to go in a story junior, you've fought darkspawn but spiders scare the shit out of you," Varric said, nudging the younger Hawke's elbow, his face creased as though he was ready to burst out laughing any second. Carver looked disgruntled.

"Thank you, Anders, although I wouldn't have done as well if it wasn't for Fenris' aid," she said, shooting a smile at him.

They walked out of the cave to then be greeted with a magical barrier that seemed impossible to pass. Fenris tried to open it with a lyrium fuelled fist to no avail. Hawke asked the abomination to try with his magic, but not even magic could open the barrier.

The elf mage walked up to the barrier nonchalantly and took a dagger to her wrist, making blood leak down her arm. The barrier sucked up every droplet of the blood, apparently hungry for it and then vanished. Fenris' breath become short; his temper was getting the better of him once again.

Fenris tried to keep the swear words and curses and disgust inside him, but he could not hold it any longer. He looked at Hawke who was just as disgusted as he was however, obviously unaware of what the elf mage was going to do. He calmed slightly at that thought but he turned on the elven blood mage with an anger that could rip down the juggernaut golems that protected Tevinter in one swift glance.

"Faasta Vas! Blood magic! Because being stupid wasn't enough, was it? You are foolish!" he spat. Mages wanted nothing but power, whether it be by blood or any other means. They would get their hands on it and when they did they would use their hands to abuse those who did not have the power to fight back. He had seen it all before.

"Bless you broody," Varric said, obviously not fazed by what happened.

"Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing! The spirit helped us, didn't it?" she stammered, looking towards Hawke for kind words of reassurance.

Hawke was looking at her as if she had spat on her. Her face was painted with disdain and disapproval, her brother mirrored her expression.

"Yes, demons are _very_ helpful. Right up until they take your mind and make you into a monster," she said in cold humour.

"Well… yes. But that won't happen, I know how to defend myself," the blood mage tried to argue back. She was pathetic.

Hawke did not reply to her, she just closed her eyes for a second and pinched the gap between her eyebrows. She took a deep breath and looked at the blood mage with a calm patient expression.

"We are nearly there, but be careful up ahead. The spirits are restless," Merril said half-heartedly as if her feelings had been hurt. Hawke nodded to that and continued onwards past the barrier.

As soon as they crossed the barrier they were ambushed by undead shadow assassins and the bodies that were once buried in the grounds; the once dead corpses becoming animated. They were cornered on the summit of the mountain with both exits blocked, making the fight incredibly risky in fenris' eyes.

Hawke didn't seem to care about the risks and began to dance with her daggers alongside her partner in this violent dance; her younger brother. They swiped and slashed whilst the mages aided them with their magic, Varric had his trigger ready for a shot. Fenris roared into battle and joined the fray.

He scythed amongst the enemies, becoming nothing more than the hum and flash of blue light, defending Varric who was firing his crossbow when he got the chance. He would rather do that than become a third wheel in the Hawke partnership, it seemed he was not needed.

He was fighting a shadow assassin when he heard her scream, he heaved his great sword at the assassin he was battling, decapitating its inky head from its rotting body and swivelled around, his eyes searching for the person that that scream belonged to but he already knew the answer.

_Hawke._

He searched for her on the battlefield and found her lying near the edge of the mountain a dagger impaled through the small gap in her armour, her body hanging off the edge. She was deathly pale.

He grabbed her, holding her awkwardly so their skin would not meet and ran through the fray and towards the abomination. The mage looked at Hawke's limp body with shocked and panicked eyes, and quickly grabbed her from Fenris.

Carver Hawke screamed in anger at the sight of his big sister's body and sliced the last enemy that threatened them. He ran towards the mage and knelt down with his sister, his body shaking with rage and panic.

Panic charged the atmosphere as Fenris watched Carver Hawke look at his sister's body for a second and then back at the abomination "On three," he commanded and the mage nodded in agreement.

"One"

_She's too pale, she might have lost too much blood. _

"Two"

_Maybe it's for the best; if she dies then he can just leave and carry on. _

"THREE!"

He ripped the dagger from her chest, blood spurting like a fountain and then the gaping hole in her chest was knitted together by the blue light radiating from the abomination's hands. For a moment Hawke laid on the ground as if she were sleeping, the mood had become deathly quiet even the funny dwarf had nothing to say.

She shot up like a comet, taking a deep gulp of the air as if it was the first time she had ever truly breathed. She spat on the floor and muttered several curses and looked up and shot a smile at everyone who chuckled.

"Hmm, anyone else feel like they've been hit over the head with a boulder? Just me? Oh well," she joked, getting herself up and dusting herself off as if nothing had happened. Fenris had been calling this mage strange for most of the day but he decided he had found the correct adjective for her: _insane_. She had spent the morning chatting to abominations about herbs, blood mages about chocolate and then when she got stabbed in the chest with a rusted dagger causing her to nearly die she had acted as if it was nothing. This woman was truly mental. And yet, even though her mental health was questionable this group of opposites were all together because of her.

"Fenris, you're bleeding!" Hawke exclaimed, bringing Fenris out of his thoughts.

He looked down at his arm and saw the laceration in the gap of his armour; to him it was nothing. He was used to being cut and sliced when he was cornered by hunters. This was merely a scratch to him; he had been cornered by the hunters once and they had done far worse.

He shrugged at her and wiped away some of the blood. The wound was shallow and was not life threatening to him in fact he couldn't even feel it.

Still not satisfied with his shrug, Hawke went into the pouch that was tied on her belt and passed him a red vial. He was going to argue with her that it was nothing but when he met her eyes he saw that she had a stubborn expression on her face and decided to take it and not complain. He sipped the vial and felt a sudden warmth simmer in his body and when he looked down the wound was gone, save for the blood that was now staining his armour.

"You know this dirt thing's starting to grow on me, Hawke, like a sodding lump on my balls," Varric said, kicking a corpse to empathize his words.

"Let's get this over with and I can win that bet and you will be wearing a dress for the rest of the night," Hawke muttered at the dwarf.

She turned around to the blood mage who walked towards a stone table at the very end of the mountain summit, close to where Hawke had been dangling off the edge just a few moments ago. He had not realised that this boulder classed as an altar to Dalish elves. In Tevinter the magister's alters were made of gold and encrusted with gems with small symbols of Dumat painted delicately around them.

Hawke must have felt the same way about the pathetic excuse for an altar as she looked at the blood mage in surprise and said, "Is this it?"

It seemed Hawke must have expected something a little grander than the boulder that looked like it had eroded coincidentally into the shape of an altar.

"Stone lasts longer than wood and metal would be stolen, it still works just as well, or so the Keeper says. Personally I think it would look lovely with a few flowers around it maybe some pretty vines too," the blood mage rambled at Hawke.

"I don't know, it just seems a bit too plain to pay homage to a dragon," Hawke tutted sarcastically.

The blood mage was not listening; she had put the amulet on the altar and had begun chanting quickly in elven and the amulet began to shine intensely, encouraging the mage to continue and at the end of the chant the light had become so bright Fenris shielded his eyes from the intense rays. When his eyes finally opened the light had completely gone and had been replaced by a white haired old woman who looked at them with keen yellow eyes and an amused smile on her face.

Behind him he heard gasps and grunts from the three other men of the party who were obviously as surprised as he was at the woman standing before him, the blood mage threw herself on her knees mumbling in elven.

"One of the people I see, so bright and young. Do you know anything of me beyond that title?" she asked looking down at the bowing elf.

"I know only a little," the blood mage replied, still bowing at the old woman's feet.

"Then stand, the people bend their knee too quickly," the white haired woman said and turned to Hawke almost smiling. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of the bargain, I half expected my amulet to be in the pocket of a merchant!"

Hawke's expression was a mask of calmness and she smiled at the witch that had appeared from the amulet as if they exchanging pleasantries.

"No one wanted to buy it! Perhaps because it had a witch inside?" she cajoled, making the old woman that stood before her smile widely.

"Just a piece, a small piece but it was all that I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable occur and if I know my Morrigan it already has," she said in a dangerous whisper that made the hairs on fenris' arm stand up.

She observed Hawke for a moment as if Hawke was completely naked and the witch could see every part of her.

"Oh little songbird, now you've locked yourself in a cage the wolf will prowl," she whispered more to herself than the group.

Hawke looked at her confused for a moment; the words did not make any sense as the witch had intended he was sure.

"And will I be no doubt eaten by the big bad wolf?" Hawke replied with humour laced in her threatening tone.

"Maybe, maybe not; the wolf will bring you out of your cage there is no doubt about that," the old woman laughed.

Hawke stared at her for a moment her brow furrowed as she looked at the old witch.

"Fenris, what do you think of this?" she asked him which shocked him that she had asked for his opinion on the matter and not the abomination or the blood mage.

He observed the white haired witch for a moment and she smiled at him exposing her teeth as if in a threatening manner. He had seen his former master duel other magisters and trap their souls in small vials of their blood to augment his power but they could never escape their fate. This woman had walked out of the amulet freely, as if she was merely slumbering inside the amulet.

"You are no simple witch," was all he could comment, and it was true enough.

"Figured that out yourself, did you?" the old woman asked, almost laughing again.

"I have seen powerful mages, spirits and abominations but you are none of those things. What are you?" he asked, it irked him that he had left Tevinter with the idea that he had seen everything that mages were capable of doing and now he stood before another entity of magic and had no idea what she was.

She laughed at him for a moment, and then started to tap her chin almost comically as she pondered him for a moment, her amused expression never leaving her face.

"Such a curious lad, the chains are broken but are you truly free, little wolf?" she asked, causing Fenris' stomach to jolt as she had called him the pet name Danarius was so inclined to call him.

He stared at her looking into her knowing yellow eyes and wondered what else the old witch knew about him.

"You see a great deal."

Her eyes flickered around the members of the group once more until they landed back onto Hawke, her gaze was intense she stared at Hawke with a pensive stare.

"I am a fly in the ointment, I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman, more than that you do not need to know," she said.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at the witch's answer but did not pursue her curiosity as she asked, "You have plans I take it?"

The old witch's smile almost turned feral at the question, a sadistic gleam shone in her eye making Fenris shudder, wondering what it was that she was thinking about to make her look the way she did.

"Destiny awaits us both, my dear girl, we have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice. We stand upon the precipice of change; the world fears the inevitable plummet to the abyss. Watch for that moment songbird, and do not hesitate to take the leap for it is only when you fall that you will truly learn to fly,"

Hawke's faced was marred for a moment with confusion at the witch's monologue; the old woman was a snake with her words and did not make sense on purpose.

"Cheap advice from a dragon," Hawke sneered making the old woman laugh again.

The old woman nodded and countered, "We all have our challenges,"

"We're really going to regret bringing her here," Carver Hawke groaned to his sibling.

"Regret is something I know well, take well not to cling to it or hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets; remember me," she said solemnly as she turned towards the blood mage "As for you, child, step carefully for no path is darker when your eyes are shut."

The elf fell to her knees in worship making Fenris' stomach turn at the sight of her willingly worshipping the witch; it was because of elves like this one that their race had been submerged into slavery.

"Ma Serannas, Asha'bellanar," the blood mage replied.

The witch's yellow eyes glanced at the elf for a second and flitted back to Hawke, still scrutinizing every inch of her face.

"Now has come for the time for me to leave, you have my thanks and my sympathies," the witch said, walking towards the mountain edge. The same light emitted from the old woman so bright they were temporarily blinded and when it faded the woman no longer stood but instead replaced by a roaring crimson dragon that had taken off into the skies.

Fenris felt his eyebrows hit the top of his forehead as he saw the dragon, which to him confirmed the authenticity of the Hawke's story. The next time he heard a ridiculous story about Hawke, he would think twice before setting it down to rumours set about by the funny dwarf.

The dragon continued flying towards the horizon, and just before it got out of sight released a blazing cone of fire before migrating into the clouds.

*** Ma nuven dareth falon- As you wish, be safe my friend (actually from the dragon age wiki ;) )**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven – Past nightmares**

**This is a rape scene, I would like to point this out to everyone beforehand so no one begins to read and become uncomfortable. It is not necessary to read, if you don't want to. Hawke does mention it in passing later, but not as explicit.**

**Thank you for the reviews!**

**A huge thanks to enchantm3nt, my delightful beta! **

She opened her eyes and saw nothing, making her heart thud in her chest. She tried to move, only to be halted by chains binding her arms tightly behind her back. She blinked a few times as her breathing became ragged and finally her sight adjusted to the dark. She was in a cell, all of her belongings were gone and she was in nothing but her smalls leaving her skin to freeze against the cold, dank stone under her. She looked around, panic overriding her senses as she tried to make sense of what was going on. She remembered walking through the fields on the edges of her family's farm hold… after that her memory was hazy.

Through the blood rushing past her ears she could hear the muffled laughter of men on the other side of the cell door. She briefly wondered what they wanted, what they had planned, who they were, before her thoughts changed to how she could get away instead. She needed to figure something out and fast. She had no way of knowing how long she had been trapped here or if anyone even knew she was missing.

The door opened and she pretended to sleep once more – that was the only advantage she had at this point, perhaps she could at least learn something about her captors. Two pairs of footsteps shuffled into the small room. She could feel their eyes on her, feel them looking at her hungrily, it made her feel sick.

"She's a pretty'un, ain't she? Such a shame," a gruff voice said, scuffing his feet.

"It is the Maker's will that we do this. We've been working on this project for a decade now. We don't have a choice," another voice replied softly.

"When will the party be returning to experiment with her?" the gruff sounding man asked the other.

"Tomorrow."

"So, I can tell the lads they can have fun with her tonight then?"

"She can't be too battered, Alan."

The other man scoffed. "We got mages she can be healed by. And come tomorrow she won't know a thing, might as well give her a good fucking tonight, whilst she still knows what one is." She felt the air shift around her and a shadow fell over her face as the man crouched down. His fingers ghosted over the skin of her breast and her eyes flew open as she lurched forward and bit down on the man's unprotected hand.

He let out a yelp and yanked his hand back; she spat blood out of her mouth and snarled up at the three men. _Templars_. The small amount of light in the room reflected off of their armour, shining off of the blazing sword of mercy on their chest plates but there was nothing merciful about these men. They eyed her bitterly, angrily, _hungrily_.

"Feisty bitch, aren't you?" Hold onto that whilst you still can, whore," the gruffly spoken one spat at her as his boot connected with her nose, breaking it with an agonising pop.

The other man bent down, looking at her body with eager eyes. He lifted a lock of her hair and smelled it, a twisted smile stretching across his face. "I think you're right," he said up to the other man. "Tell the boys we're going to give her the best kind of send-off she's ever had.

"Please serah," she begged. "Please just leave me be." He smiled even more.

"Fine, I'll go have some fun with your sister instead, shall I?" Her lip trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't let them hurt Bethany, she _wouldn't_. "I didn't think so," he laughed.

His hands cupped her face roughly. "Open them pretty little eyes of yours. I want to see the look on your face when I take you," the slick voice man purred.

She forced her eyes to open as she watched him yank off her breast-band; his eyes widened as the large mounds of flesh fell free and then a smile curved his face once more. His hands snaked down to grasp one of her breasts, his hands were cold and she shivered at the unwelcome contact. He took one of her nipples between his finger and thumb and twisted it roughly, making her bite down on her lip to stop from crying out. Her body was tight as a bowstring as he continued to twist and squeeze her nipple, the other hand kneading her other breast with calloused fingers that scratched across her skin.

His hand scratched across her skin as it travelled lower, slipping into her smalls to separate her wet folds. She had not yet given her virtue to any man, she had wanted to wait until her wedding night, she had wanted to wait for a man that she _loved._ His fingers stroked along her slit, making her squirm, repulsed at those cold fingers invading such an intimate place. Two fingers slipped into her core and she shuddered, gagging as the urge to vomit overwhelmed her. He stared down at her, smiling as his eyes darkened; she turned her head away, panting heavily as panic gripped her chest. His fingers moved in and out of her as his thumb circled the little bundle of nerves at the top of her wet folds. She could feel her stomach tightening as the pressure at her centre built. She tried to close her legs, tried to get away from his touch, but that only made him increase his strokes. She wanted it to be over, she wanted to die, but this was only the beginning of what they had planned for her.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him unbuckle his armour, letting his cod piece fall to the stone ground with a loud clatter. He stepped toward her with a menacing glare, presenting her with his hard manhood.

"Open your mouth," he commanded. She shut it tight in defiance; she would not give him the satisfaction. He growled. "Open your fucking mouth, apostate whore or your little sister will open_ her_ mouth for me instead."

He pinched her nose, knowing she would have to open her mouth to breathe and when she did he stuffed his cock into her mouth. He groaned and grabbed her head, pulling to and thro, forcing the cock to hit her throat before it slid back out again only to thrust straight back in. She gagged and began to panic before she closed her eyes and forced herself not to panic, wishing it would end.

The demons came then, whispering in her mind, pleading with her, promising her power. The Templar grabbed her roughly, his cock slipping from her mouth as he flipped her over so her ass was in the air. _Let us help_, they whispered, _let us end this, together_. She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring them. She would _not_ become an abomination, she was stronger than that.

"You should thank me for the extra time you got with your father," the Templar whispered harshly. "For it was I who made sure the toxin would kill him slowly. I wanted you to see him, to be there with him as he slowly died for it was because of you that he died," he snarled into her ear as he sniffed her hair again.

He licked his way down her spine, and then his hands groped her ass roughly before smacking her behind; her body jolted but she kept her mouth shut. She would not give the Templar the satisfaction of her cries either, she would remain silent.

She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood when the Templar shoved his erection into her violently, breaking her maidenhead. He began to thrust into her at a harsh pace, making her want to scream in pain.

He groaned with satisfaction. "You're such a tight little whore, but your silence displeases me," he growled. One of his hands snaked around to rub along her slit again as the other gripped her hip tightly. He began to circle nerves there roughly, sending waves of dizzying pleasure through her. Her body was accepting the brutal torment while her mind reeled and screamed. She felt so _unclean_, like she was nothing more than the shit on the ground; no bath would ever make her feel clean again.

She moaned as he thrust harder; her mouth betraying her.

"Yes," he hissed. "I knew you'd fucking love it, you apostate bitch," he jeered, upping the tempo of his thrusts.

The demons continued to scream at her as the Templar thrust madly into her. She tried not to moan as it only purred him on, but her body had taken over, her core quivering around his thick cock, almost drawing him in deeper with each stroke. Her body was tensing, tightening, coiling, and a fire began to burn at her core, radiating out to ignite her body. The pain was still unbearable but it was mixing now with twisted, unwanted pleasure as he plunged into her, over and over.

The pressure became too much, unbearable, moans and cries spilled from her mouth, driving the Templar into a frenzy. And then the pressure exploded out of her core, rippling through her. She through her head back and cried out, her entire body shaking violently. The Templar held her up, still thrusting into her as he grunted and groaned, still stroking her sensitive nub.

With one final thrust he stilled, grunted loudly and she felt his hot seed fill her, making her quiver and moan again. He collapsed down onto her, breathing hard as he recovered from his release. She prayed to the Maker that would be it; that it would be over now. He had got what he wanted. He shifted and got off of her, pulling out roughly, making her whimper. And then he cleaned himself off, wiping the smeared blood on his cock away with a cloth. She lay face down on the ground, dried blood crusting around her nose and wetness dribbling down her thighs.

She felt sick. She wanted to die. She could still feel him on her body, inside of her, in her mouth. Her stomach clenched and she vomited onto the ground, gagging and choking from her mostly empty stomach.

He grabbed her hair, lifting her head so he could whisper in her ear. "If you fail us, then I will get the pleasure of fucking your mother and sister too. I wonder if they're as tight as you? Maybe I'll fuck them at the same time?" He laughed and kicked her in the side before turning and walking out of the door. "Right lads! Who's next with our little whore?"

She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes, wish for the darkness to take her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter twelve- Carver**

**Thank you for your reviews, it's lovely to hear from you guys. :3**

**And as always, thank you to my beta enchantm3nt for being such a great help to me with this story!**

Carver watched his sister brushing out her hair in the mirror; she was back to her usual self despite the nightmare that had woken her in the night. She had been panting and sweating, her eyes broken and haunted but that had quickly passed. She wouldn't tell him what the nightmare was; he knew it was about whatever had happened to her all of those years ago though but he never pressed her for answers, unwilling to start an argument over such a sensitive subject.

He missed the way she had been before whatever had happened. She had been so young and free and she had their parents wrapped around her finger. They loved her, worshipped her, he had been so jealous.

His father's words still echoed in his mind to this day.

_Protect your sisters, Carver, no matter what. _

But he had failed. He had failed that one simple command, that last, dying wish, that promise. He had not been there to protect his sister that night. She had been missing an entire week before she finally came home in the middle of the night. She had tapped on his window and he had rushed outside to her; she had been completely naked, covered in blood and mud, and her once charcoal hair was drained of all of its colour. The memory of her looking like that… it still haunted him, still ate away at him, still made his heart ache.

"You could wear your hair down for once, you know," he said to her, looking at her through their cracked bedroom mirror.

"I'll be enjoying the odour of the Hanged Man in my hair for weeks!" she exclaimed.

"Just once sister, enjoy yourself, for me?" he replied, making his sister mutter some insult that did not reach his ears.

He rolled his eyes and then granted her a devious grin. "Imagine Mother's face if she was told you were dating a guard," he cajoled, a threatening smile on his lips.

"Imagine mother's face if she found out you were trying to stick your man parts in every whore in the brothel," she countered, making Carver wince at her choice of words.

"Go for it, saying and doing is different sister," he said, bluffing.

She turned and grinned at him wickedly, "Why the change of heart? Is it because of Merrill? I saw you staring, don't deny it!" she laughed, making Carver blush with embarrassment.

He did not want to admit it to his sister, but he had found the little elf woman they had met the other day to be somewhat beautiful, in an endearing sort of way. She was not alluring or sexy like their Rivaini companion, Isabela, but had a delicate, innocent beauty that Carver thought was rare in women around these parts.

His silence only spurred his sister on as she retorted, "You have an elf fetish!"

He frowned at his sister's words; she was always interested in his love life but never even thought about her own. She was young yet she acted so old and reserved, he knew that whatever had happened that terrible night had changed her, and he admired her for carrying on every day; her bravado was one to be commended.

But she was weary of other men getting close to her. He knew that she used mother and himself as an excuse for these actions but what would she do when they had carved their path and sat on a mountain of gold? Surely she must have realised that mother would want her to become a noble as she was once? Mother would want her to find a good rich husband and would be expecting her to give her grandchildren, the same applied to him of course, but he had no problem with such things. It would be a well-earned break from the hell that he had to endure these last two years.

He had seen her a few days ago when she and the elf had accidently touched, she had jumped away as if he was a hot iron branding into her skin and he was a mirror image. They had a lot in common it seemed, more so than that possessed bastard mage that was constantly trying to get in her good graces. He did not like the way that Anders stared at her; it was almost possessive.

He would rather her sleep with Varric than Anders, that was true, but he just wanted his sister to live a little. Yes, she experienced fun in the slashing of daggers and blood but she he had never seen her once truly enjoy herself in an environment that did not consist of bandits, demons or whatever thug crossed her path.

"So are you going to honour your bet with Varric?" he asked his sister, throwing her a wink as she shot him an annoyed look.

"Yes, I will. But if that is the first thing the damned dwarf asks me to do as soon as I step inside tonight, I promise you I'm going to write my name in his chest hair with my daggers," she joked, although Carver didn't doubt that she would do so.

She started readying her amour for her to put on for the evening, making him frown. She practically lived in armor, she was worse than Aveline.

_Can't she just for one evening enjoy herself?_

"Sister, we're just going for a drink why don't you wear something more comfortable?" Carver asked, watching her expression become incredulous.

"Carver, we almost always get attacked near The Hanged Man, plus I have nothing nice to wear," she replied, he knew she would make excuses straight away but having spoken to Mother this morning he was certain the excuse would become void any moment now.

As if his own thoughts had summoned her, their mother walked into the room with a smile on her face and in her arms she held the package that had been the main topic of discussion for them this morning.

"I found that in the old crate you brought when you recovered the will from the old estate," Mother said, her eyes twinkling with pride as she handed it to Aria.

Aria unravelled the package with uncertainty in her eyes to find it was a gown.

His grin was so wide it almost touched his ears as he looked at the gown. It was simple, a crimson red with a small black bow in the centre of the chest, it was plain enough to wear to go out in without causing a stir. It also had red slippers to match; he chuckled smugly, watching her face as she tried to get of the situation but couldn't think of a proper excuse to give to Mother without her dying of shock at the fact that they were being attacked sometimes on the way to or from the local tavern.

He almost laughed as he watched his sister squirm for a moment; she was well and truly backed into a corner with not an excuse left to fight with. She could do no more than accept it and she knew it too.

"Thank you, Mother," she said, placing a kiss on mother's cheek.

"Well come on, I'll help you put it on Aria and goodness let's do something about this hair," their mother said almost gleefully.

"Mother, I don't really want to-" Aria started but her mother silenced her immediately.

"I always did this with Bethany, I miss it," her mother pleaded quietly.

That made his older sister's mouth clamp shut. All mother had to ever do was mention his twin sister and Aria would suddenly go quiet. He knew that she blamed herself for her death, and she should have realised that it was his fault. He had failed father twice it seemed, but he would never fail him again. He missed Bethany so; it had felt like a part of him had died with her that day that the ogre had taken her from them. Sometimes he had nightmares of the ogre throwing her around as if she was nothing but a ragdoll.

Together he and Bethany had been whole, two people thinking as one. It was one of the many joys of being a twin Mother had told him.

He pushed all thoughts of Bethany out of his head and watched as his mother fiddled with his older sister's hair, braiding it loosely. He smiled as he exited the room, knowing that even though Aria was furious with what mother was doing she would not dare disappoint her.

He sat at the table for a few moments, watching the mabari move in his slumber.

He wondered if Merril had settled well in the Alienage, and decided he would go see her.

"C'mon boy, let's see how Merrill's doing in her new home."

The hound shot up enthusiastically and followed Carver outside.

_Tonight would be a good night._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen- A song and a game**

**The song belongs to Florence and the machine! One of my favourite dragon age songs. 3**

**A massive thanks to my Beta, enchantm3nt you should check out her story she's an amazing writer!**

**I fully recommend her amazing fic The Sacrifices we make ! Check it out! You will not be disapointed!**

**x**

Fenris nursed a flagon of ale that Varric had handed to him as he sat in the Hanged Man, pondering the events of the past few days and how they had come to be. If he had been told six months ago that he would become a member of a _merry band of misfits_, as Hawke had so aptly put it, he might well have laughed for the very first time in his life at the ridiculousness of that statement. He did not work well in groups, he was so used to being alone, on the run, and yet here he was, settled and working with a group of people consisting of several _mages_. None of them had anything in common, expect for Hawke. She was the reason they were together, the _only_ reason.

She was a mystery, and a surprise. Even the members of the group that had supposedly known her quite a while knew little about her, it seemed. She was an enigma; the more time he spent with her the less he realised he knew. That should make him uncomfortable, he shouldn't trust her, or like her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to hate her. There was something… familiar in her eyes, something he recognised because he had seen those very eyes looking back at him in a mirror.

The witch had said that Hawke had caged herself, but he knew that Hawke would have to have a valid reason for doing such a thing. He had his suspicions: the way she pulled back as if burned when their hands touched, the distance she always kept between herself and others… He had been shocked to realise her touch had not hurt him like Danarius or Hadriana's always did. Hers was fleeting, light, _soft._

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Isabela. "So Varric, is tonight the night you bank your winnings with Hawke?" Isabela asked the dwarf with a hopeful expression.

"Of course Rivaini, I hope she's prepared me a ballad to rock the ages," Varric replied, a grin of satisfaction on his face at the memory of winning the bet.

"And what if she refuses?" the abomination questioned with a grin.

"She can't, I've bought her a present and it cost me a pretty penny! Bianca's had to lose out on her polish this week!" Varric replied, lifting a lute from under the table.

Fenris leaned in and observed the lute; it was indeed a finely crafted instrument. He had to admit he was curious as to what Hawke would be like singing. The others had shared stories of Hawke and her younger brother dancing in battle, but never of her other interests. It seemed that Hawke was more of a business woman and never mingled the two together. Although, from what he had gathered from Varric she enjoyed a drink; Varric had told him the story of Hawke and Isabela and the twenty five shots.

"I could polish her for you," Isabela purred at the dwarf, who raised his hand up to her.

"Stop right there, Bianca is a one man kind of girl," the dwarf stated, making Isabela slump in her chair with a disappointed expression on her face.

"You know Varric; I've never seen Hawke properly sloshed! How many shots do you think it would take?" Isabela asked, competition lacing her voice.

"Well Rivaini, I'd bet it would be about forty since the ale here is so diluted," the dwarf laughed.

"Not if you know where Corff puts the good stuff, and I do," she said smugly, her eyes glinting.

"Is that right? A wager then Rivaini?" the dwarf laughed as Isabela agreed.

Fenris watched as she got up and sauntered past him, deliberately putting her large bosom in his face as she walked towards the bar. Isabela was an attractive woman, but he had taken Varric's warning with good heed. Plus he did not feel entirely comfortable with the perverse pirate and her hungry eyes.

The guard-captain joined them half an hour later, greeting the group as she sat down and drank quietly, occasionally flinging an insult at either Varric or Isabela. Fenris watched the captain's eyes moving towards the door, most likely waiting for Hawke. Varric too, kept looking at the door, waiting for Hawke almost excitedly.

An hour later into the evening and one Hawke had finally come to the tavern, but not the Hawke that Varric desperately wanted to see. You could almost see the excitement and expectation fading as he watched Carver Hawke and the blood mage walk into the tavern.

"Junior, where's your sister?" Varric asked disappointed at the sight of him.

Fenris noticed the amused smile Carver flashed before answering the dwarf.

"She's been with Mother whilst I've been helping Merril fix some holes in her roof," Carver explained to Varric who grinned profusely at the younger Hawke.

"Oh, did you now, I could have helped too," Isabela purred as she walked back to her table and plonked herself back in her seat next to Varric, looking at Carver and the blood mage provocatively.

"Daisy, this is Isabela and the red with the thing for metal is Aveline and the guy with the feathers is Anders, the rest of the gang you've met it seems" Varric introduced the blood mage to their other companions; Fenris greeted her with a scowl making her turn her gaze quickly. The blood mage looked at the dwarf with a serious expression on her face.

"My name's not Daisy, Varric, its Merril," she said to Varric, confused.

"It's just his funny dwarf ways, he likes giving things nicknames," Anders explained to her, shooting Varric a glare.

Varric shot the mage an innocent smile making the mage's eyes narrow at the dwarf who chuckled before taking a long pull of his ale.

"Hawke's definitely coming, isn't she?" Varric said, eyeing up Carver dubiously.

"Of course she is, she's just indulging Mother, she misses doing whatever it is women do together," Carver said, a note of sadness in his voice. Fenris remembered what Hawke said about her younger sister being killed by darkspawn.

The group began with small talk again, Fenris choosing to not to join in with the groups banter instead deciding to watch the door for Hawke. It was odd that she wasn't there yet; he had gotten the impression that Hawke was a punctual sort of person and she was apparently -according to the dwarf who seemed to enjoy exaggerating- late by one hour.

He watched the group in their idle chatter and noticed they were not as animated as they were when Hawke was around them. Isabela and Varric seemed to be the only ones not affected by absence of Hawke; the two sat together concocting bets and swapping stories with hearty chuckles.

Varric stopped talking to Isabela and turned to stare at the door for a moment. He blinked twice as if trying to adjust his eyes and after a moment of sincere shock his face cracked into a wicked grin. He nudged Isabela who also looked towards the door and smiled furiously. Fenris turned his head round as he heard the steps of someone coming closer towards their table and wolf whistles from the patrons rang in the noise of the crowd.

Hawke walked towards them with a quick stride, her face flushed with embarrassment and her hair down ending near her breasts. Fenris' eyebrow raised as he noticed that the group's fearless leader was wearing a dress made of crimson material decorated with nothing but a small black bow with shoes to match. The dress clung to her as tightly, beginning to cause a stir with the men of the crowd.

_Not only the strangers in the crowd. _

He looked at abomination who stared at Hawke in wanton lust and need, his eyes perversely taking in every bit of her as she walked towards them with such elegance that if he did not know Hawke he would have thought that she was some noble's offspring. She had an air of grace in which was strange for a Lowtown smuggler. He hadn't really noticed how womanly Hawke truly was, every time he had met this woman she had always worn armour. He looked over her figure for a final time, viewing her curves with surprised eyes.

The abomination seemed mesmerised by her as she walked towards them, his face painted with obvious desire and lust. He stood up when she got to the table, bowing lowly to her and kissing her hand, making Fenris wanting to snort into his ale at the sheer desperation that radiated from the abomination.

"You look beautiful," the abomination said to her, pulling a chair out for her to sit down.

Fenris silently agreed with the abomination but chose not to shower Hawke with compliments like the abomination and other men seemed to do. He sought nothing from her unlike the abomination; he did not lust for her like some lovesick boy with a crush. He laughed at their weaknesses, for it was their undoing. However, even if she had not knocked him head over heels like she had with the pathetic mage, she had created doubt within his usual adamant thoughts and beliefs.

Hawke pursed her lips and looked at the male mage for a moment with a small blush painting her face. "Thank you, I was with Mother today she misses having a daughter to do such things like this with," she said, gesturing at the dress and her hair with a disgruntled expression.

"Ah, Hawke I'm glad you got dressed for this occasion," Varric said, grinning at her with obvious intent.

"Oh, why, is it my Name Day already?" she asked feigning innocence. Fenris knew she remembered losing the bet to Varric on the way back to Kirkwall from the Dalish camp.

Fenris looked at Hawke grin at the dwarf, and couldn't help but ponder on the old witch's words.

_Oh little songbird, you've locked yourself in a cage and now the wolf will prowl._

The old witch had seemed to look at Hawke with respect and pity when she spoke to her, and Fenris found himself wondering in what way had Hawke had caged herself. He wondered if she had ever opened the gates that held her back and become whoever she was underneath. He snorted at himself at loud for such a thought, he was becoming a hypocrite it seemed, for who was he to judge Hawke, when he too was chained.

Hawke cocked her head in bemusement at him and threw him a quizzical look that he answered her with a shake of his head to deny her an explanation.

"No Hawke, but I've bought you a present," Varric said, presenting her with the wooden instrument.

"Varric, my dear dwarf I cannot sing without a bit of courage," she said, a coy grin playing on her lips.

Isabela took the hint well, gesturing the bartender Corff over with a seductive smile. The bartender looked at the Rivaini pirate with a smirk and produced a tray full of shots, which he put in front of Hawke.

"Oh all of these are for me? I wanted to play a good drinking game," Hawke said, viewing the group who had all begun to look at her sceptically.

"There were no terms about a drinking game before or after you fulfilled your bargain Hawke, and there will be no game until you have sung us a song," Varric said, feigning a serious demeanour for a moment before flashing a wicked grin.

Hawke rolled her eyes and downed one of the shots in front of her, her nose crinkled and her face scrunched up at the sour taste.

"Maker's Breath, what in Thedas is that?" Hawke asked Varric incredulously.

Varric shrugged his shoulders and gave Isabela a questioning look, Isabela repaid him in kind with a huge grin. Fenris suspected that the pirate had indeed gotten into the bartender's _strong stuff. _

Nevertheless, Hawke grabbed a few more of the shots and drank them down quickly as if they were water.

"That is a very pretty dress, Hawke," Merril complimented quietly, with a slight blush to her face.

"Thank you, Merril, it was my mother's dress when she was younger; she's just been trying to teach me how to sew and repair dresses," Hawke said, once again wrinkling her nose at the thought of it.

"Oh, I can see that now, you sat a spinning wheel repairing your armour," Aveline said, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

"Why in Thedas did she think that you would need to learn? You can just use magic!" Merril exclaimed, making Isabela jump up in shock, she stood there for a moment in glee as if almost about to break into dance.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" she shouted, pointing at Hawke with obvious joy.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at the pirate whilst she sat down looking around the group expecting them to be just as shocked about the new information that the blood mage had announced rather loudly. She then pouted and groaned "I was the only fucker who didn't know, wasn't I?" she sank back in the chair with a disheartened expression emitting from her face. She had obviously thought she was the only of them onto Hawke's secret, when it was the complete different end of the spectrum.

"Rivaini, we all assumed you knew but didn't give a shit," Varric said, clapping her on the back as she looked truly disappointed.

"I don't, but now I know which one of them should be magic in the bedroom, if you get my drift," she said, winking at Hawke with a face full of jest. She shook off her disappointment in a moment, her face shifting back quickly. The pirate and Hawke seemed to both be able to hide their emotions just as quick as the other.

"Well, back to the question before Isabela's outburst. Mother wants to be wed to a man of stature, and these skills make me more appealing," Hawke groaned, much to Fenris' amusement.

The abomination stared at Hawke as if her words were echoing through his body; he looked tormented almost as if he were arguing with someone silently. Fenris noticed his disdain and took great pleasure in the abomination's realisation that a darkspawn had more stature than an apostate Grey Warden hiding in a shoddy clinic in Darktown.

"Oh I see now, will we be invited to the wedding? Carver said your mother was a lovely woman; she wouldn't make you marry another shemlen without your say, would she?" Merril started to babble, but Hawke stopped her in her tracks by replying to her first question with haste as if knowing the blood mage would continue to ramble until someone either intervened or hit her with something heavy.

"I am mostly just indulging her, for now, but I fear that when we get our old home back she may revert back to her ways before she met father," Hawke said, a flash of worry streaking her face.

Varric seemed to sense that the conversation was going downhill, for he changed the subject quickly and with a light heart.

"But until that day you'll always be our lady rogue Hawke! Now, this song, if you please," he said, gesturing towards the lute that he bought especially for the occasion.

Hawke bit her lip and looked at her brother with a nervousness he hadn't seen before. Fenris found it amusing that a woman that was renowned on the battlefield was nervous of singing in front of a drunken crowd where hardly anyone would be listening. Carver gave her a strict nod and she leant over the table and grabbed the lute, making Isabela smile widely at the sight of her exposed breasts whilst she leant forward. Fenris rolled his eyes at the pirate, Aveline was right about her; the woman would have anything with a pulse.

She put the lute in her lap and stroked the strings delicately, a small smile playing on her lips. She stared down at it for a moment and everyone seemed to watch in silence.

"If I do this, we're all playing a drinking game after, right?" she asked the group.

"Hey you've got to do it either way but I'm game for a drinking game or two," Varric said, giving her a wink.

"What shall I sing?" she asked the group, but it was more directed at Carver.

Carver looked at her for a moment in thought, and then replied "You know my favourite,"

She nodded and stroked the lute once again; it let out a throaty twang as if agreeing with Carver.

She looked around the group who had become transfixed with her and the instrument waiting for her to begin her melody; Fenris found that he could not look away as she broke into song.

"_I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me,_

_I'm not calling you a thief, just don't steal from me, _

_I'm not calling you a ghost, but stop haunting me, _

_I love you so much, I'm going to let you… kill me,"_

Her voice was beautiful; the entire tavern had gone silent just to listen in to her song. The lute strummed away at the command of her fingers and she looked at home with the instrument. She did not look at anyone as she sang but her voice was confident and loud. Her voice reminded him of the warm summer amongst the fog warriors and how they sang around the fires. It felt somehow reassuring to him, in ways he did not understand.

"_There's a ghost in my lungs and it sighs in my sleep,_

_Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks, _

_Then it walks, then it walks with my legs, _

_To fall, to fall, to fall… at your feet. _

_There before the grace of him I go by, _

_And when you kiss me I am happy enough… _

_To die,"_

He did not understand the emotions that the song was creating inside of him. He looked around the group and saw that even Varric and Isabela were staring at Hawke with a serious expression on their faces. It was as if the song was bringing out their every emotion; he could feel his doubt and curiosity and fear being drawn towards the song and his perfected self-control almost broke.

"_And when you kiss me, I am happy enough_

_To die,"_

The lute hummed its last note as the song ended, she looked around at everyone with flushed pink cheeks as if she was embarrassed or worried she did not play efficiently. It was true what the old witch had said about Hawke, she was indeed a songbird in her own right. He had always stereotyped mages to be the same as each other, but Hawke seemed to be unique.

The patrons and drunkards in the bar applauded loudly, wolf whistling at the blushing mage who looked at the people around the table sheepishly.

"That was beautiful, Hawke," Aveline said, smiling at her reassuringly.

"Thank you, that's the first time I've sung since…" Hawke stopped talking for a moment, her expression turning dark.

"Since forever, Sister!" Carver interjected, saving her from the wondering looks of Isabela and Varric.

She looked up at her brother and smiled widely and then turned to Varric "Well, you got what you wanted! Would you like a ballad about a handsome dwarf or shall I give you the lute back? Perhaps you could name her Lucy and she could be a friend for Bianca?" Hawke cajoled, her coy playful grin back on her face.

"Oh no Hawke, Bianca would be jealous. I got Lucy for you anyways," Varric said, grinning at her. "As much as I would love to hear another song, I don't own any handkerchiefs and don't want to cry all over Bianca,"

"Yes it was lovely, can we soddin' drink now!?" Isabela shouted, making the crowds of men cheer at her words, raising their tankards at the busty pirate.

"Yes, yes we can. I think we should play a game of I never!" Hawke agreed, smiling round at the group. Fenris' eyes narrowed at the very idea of playing some silly drinking game; he did not feel comfortable in doing so. She looked at him for a moment, her expression unfathomable and then added, "not everyone has to play if they don't feel comfortable."

Fenris found he was grateful for her amendment, for if she thought for a second he would down shots and be merry with a room that consisted of mages then she was indeed mad. If he lost control of himself he very much doubted that the blood mage or the abomination would be left with any innards by the end of the night.

Yet, he found that it would be somewhat amusing to watch the group drink, he had no other plans for the night and if he was not in the tavern he would be in his condemned mansion dreaming up fantasies that involved decorating the mansion's foyer with Danarius' intestines. He welcomed the distraction; he had spent six months in a pit of hatred and loathing.

The group moved their drinking to Varric's private suite and Isabela and the barmaid Norah had brought in two more trays of the shots to accompany Hawke's tray.

The blood mage sat next to Hawke, her cheeks blushing a furious pink as she explained she did not know how to play the drinking game. Hawke smiled at her with kind eyes and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, the first time Fenris had seen her touch anyone but her brother.

"It's very simple actually, Merril, someone announces something that they have never done and if you have done it you must down one of these shots," Hawke said, smiling encouragingly at the nervous elf.

The blood mage nodded in understanding returning Hawke's smile with one of her own.

"We never played such games, Hawke," Merril explained herself, as if she was making excuses.

"I know, Tamlen told me the exact same, he'd never even seen a deck of cards! Elves most definitely have it bad, no chocolate, no fun games! Such a sin," Hawke said dramatically, making the blood mage's mouth pop into the shape of an O.

"Oh but we have some games! And we have rice cake treats! Honestly, I don't think chocolate can be _that_ amazing!" she said, her voice serious as if she did not detect Hawke's sarcasm.

"My dear Merril, I think we should introduce you to chocolate very soon," Hawke laughed, causing her younger brother to watch her with bemusement.

"I'll bring some over tomorrow for you if you like, my Mother always bakes with the spare coin at the end of the month," Carver said, looking at the elven mage sweetly.

Fenris almost snorted at Carver Hawke for his obviousness, you could tell just by the way that he looked at the blood mage that he adored her. He should be smarter than other people having lived amongst mages all of his life that blood magic was something to distance oneself from, he was obviously as naïve as his older sister.

"I'll come with you this time, Carver; I think I've had enough of Mother showing me different ways to style my hair and how to sew for a few weeks," the elder Hawke looked at her sibling, a grin on her face confirming that she suspected the same as Fenris.

"Well she can't have taught you much, you've just taken it out of the bun for once," Aveline chuckled, taking the other seat next to Hawke.

"Look who's talking, man-hands! Pot kettle black!" Isabela jibbed as she spread her long legs on the table, flaunting every inch of her tanned skin, a smile on her bronze lips.

"Shut it, Slattern before I make you shut it," Aveline cursed, the amusement leaving her face in an instance to glare at Isabela in annoyance.

"She taught me to plait it actually, but I think that's just asking for some Lowtown thug to cut it off and wave it around me like a trophy, she's insistent I dye it soon as it's not very becoming," Hawke replied to Aveline, her nose once again wrinkling.

Fenris looked at Hawke's hair; he could see why Hawke's Mother didn't think it was becoming of a young woman like Hawke. Then again, if Hawke's Mother knew what Hawke and her sibling truly got up to on a day to day basis, then she would probably agree that it suited her incredibly. Her hair was almost white with the one red streak, it looked somewhat unique as he had not seen anyone else apart from himself in Kirkwall with such outlandish hair, and yet the crimson streak gave the impression that she constantly had blood in her hair.

"I think your hair is beautiful, sweetheart," the abomination chimed in, throwing her a wink much to Carver's displeasure.

Hawke's cheeks stained pink at the mage's comment and she smiled at him widely. It seemed that even Hawke was not immune to flattery. Fenris frowned at the fact, he would have thought that she would reject the abomination's advances towards her, but it was as if she welcomed them.

He felt eyes watching him and turned to see the Rivaini pirate staring at with a sultry smile playing on her lips.

"I enjoy a man with markings like those," she purred, leaning in an almost peacock style manner, displaying her large breasts.

Fenris swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight of her bosom and replied, "You've enjoyed many a man, I suspect,"

"Where I come from they are called tattoos; Sailors get them all the time," she replied, deflecting the insult with great ease.

"Not made of Lyrium, I suspect," he replied, staring into her brown eyes with a stern look on his face.

"Not a one, and most of the time they are usually breasts," she chuckled, a predatory smile on her face as she viewed him.

"I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts tattooed onto my chest would make things better," he said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at the wild pirate.

"That's me, I'm a helper!" She laughed again.

Fenris felt as if the pirate was viewing him as prey for her next kill, it made him feel uncomfortable as the pirate looked at every inch of his body, but he permitted it.

"Holy Mother of Green cheeses, are we playing this sodding game or just flirting with one another? Is Daisy going to be educating us on Dalish frolics so soon?" Varric announced to the group, snapping the members out of their conversations. Fenris' eyes tore from the pirate to view Hawke almost bright red at whatever Anders had just whispered to her.

He did not like the mage whispering whatever pathetic flattery he spilled in her ear; it made something stir in his bones. What it was he did not know and a large part of him did not want to discover what it was.

"Okay, okay calm down Varric, Maker! I'll go first shall I? I've never kissed a woman," Hawke said, looking around the group as if watching. The men of the group groaned but surprise hit Varric's and Carver's faces when they noticed that Merril downed a shot with them, they weren't shocked at all about Isabela, and Fenris suspected that the pirate would hump a nug if her primal urges were that bad.

"Well, well Daisy! I did not know you batted for the other team!" Varric said, viewing the blood mage with a sudden interest as if he could smell the story oozing from her.

"Varric, I'm terrible at sports!" the blood mage said, a brow furrowed in confusion at the dwarf's comment.

"No he means he didn't know you were a lesbian," Carver Hawke almost sobbed, trying to keep himself calm about the topic, as if waiting for her denial to swing like a pendulum.

"Oh no, I'm just not inclined to either and most of you shem look the same… it's no offense!" the blood mage said and then spluttered at her accidental insult.

The group laughed at the blood mage who laughed back in her nervousness. The foolish elf did not realise that they were laughing at her and not with her.

"Right well, I've never had sex, as everyone in this group damn well knows," Carver blushed furiously, much to the delight of the pirate.

Most of the group downed their drinks, and none of them seemed to notice that Hawke didn't either; it seemed she moved one of the empty shots as a decoy. Was it so embarrassing to her that she not laid with another man? Hawke looked down at the table, the same dark expression marring her features that had before and Fenris suspected something plagued the mage's mind just as he did.

The questions seemed to become more ridiculous, after the blood mage's announcement that she had never been with a human that was it for anything serious. There were questions such as I've never had sex with a lord or noble, I've never worn a breast band, I've never self-pleasured, I've never rode a mabari into battle whilst wearing a powdered wig whilst reciting the Chant of Light. Each of them seemed to be trying to best the other and Fenris watched as the drunkenness of the group began to climax until all logic had left them, rendering them senseless, and laughing at almost nothing. Fenris grinned for the first time at the sight of this group of misfits, they were comrades in arms but they gave him a sense of family and protection just as the fog warriors once had. His thoughts became sour almost at once at their similarities. He remembered the Fog Warriors' kindness and how he repaid them. He would not do it again to these people.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but he got up and decided he should leave_. Forever._ The liquor and ale combined were making him feel emotions, a cloud of them and the only ones he could understand were regret and pain. He left the suite without any of them noticing in their drunken debauchery; they probably thought he was going to relieve himself or bring more drinks.

He weaved through the crowd and walked into the night air, inhaling a deep breath in.

Where would he go? What would he do? He thought he could stay but he would not submit these people to the same end that the Fog Warriors had. Doubt clouded his mind.

As he exhaled he felt the tavern door open and eyes stare right at his back.

"Is there something wrong, Fenris?" Hawke voice chimed into his ears.

"No, there is nothing wrong," he said, turning on her with narrowed eyes.

"You do not have to stay you know, your debt is repaid," she said, as if she could read his inner most thoughts.

"I know this," he stated, being somewhat at loss for words as she stared intensely at him. Her hair like his seemed to shine in the moonlight, and for a second he agreed with the blood mage that they almost matched.

"So, tell me what do you once you've stopped running," Fenris mused, actually asking Hawke for advice.

"I don't know, but do tell me when you figure it out," she replied solemnly, staring up at the moon with wide green eyes.

"I fail to see what you are running from, Hawke," he said sceptically raising an eyebrow at her as she stared at the full moon almost lovingly.

"I will not bother you with my own cage, this is not about me, Fenris," she said, a slight breeze moving her hair.

"Danarius is a powerful magister and I have seen him do horrific things to innocent people, this is my burden to bare not anyone else's and when the time comes I will fight for my freedom," Fenris snarled, the very thought of his former master making him become more beast than man.

"You have seen that we are all well-equipped and will stand by you when that time comes," Hawke stated, still looking at the moon.

"You would help someone you know so little of so freely? How can we trust one another?" Fenris asked, dubious as to why this woman he had not known more than a week would throw herself at the mercy of the imperium to help him.

"Because a very long time ago I was burned by twisted people and I know what it is like to be chained," she said, releasing a silent sigh. Her breath stunk of alcohol and Fenris wondered how intoxicated Hawke was to tell him such information. He very much doubted she had said anything like to any of the others; Hawke was a reserved woman when it came to her own problems.

"I can see a good side to you, Fenris, just as I can see a good side to every other one of my companions but I will not force you to stay, the choice is yours," she added, looking away from the moon and straight into his eyes once again. His eyes were a stark contrast from hers, his sullen dark eyes boring into her bright green for a moment. Maybe it was the alcohol but Fenris felt a tingling sensation rush down his spine.

"I can see myself staying, for the right reasons," he said, looking her up and down appreciatively. He mentally winced at his behaviour that the alcohol had brought on him; he was acting no better towards her than the leech of an abomination! "I should thank you once again for your help against the hunters, had I know Anso would find me a woman so capable I might have asked him to look sooner," he said, a true smile lifting from the corners of his lips. _His first ever smile and it was at a mage. _The alcohol had broken down his perfect defences, it seemed,;his smile faltered as he tried to build the walls back up.

He waited for a reaction out of her, he expected her to purse her lips as she had done when the abomination did something like this or maybe shoot him a smile to reward him for his compliment. He felt idiotic, embarrassed and all of a sudden sober.

"Maybe I should be the one thanking Anso," she said in an unfathomable tone, a coy grin playing on her face.

A fire scorched in the pit of his stomach, he stared into her eyes for a moment longer. He did not question the anomalous feeling that had begun to coarse from his stomach into his chest, but he found when he tried to ignore it, the more it burnt and tried to writhe its way to Hawke as if she was its beacon. He could not bear it any longer, his cowardice making him drop her blazing stare, looking at the floor in defiance to the fire that felt like it was burning into his very soul.

The fire died down as quickly as it had sprung up but before he could regain confidence to look back into the iridescent eyes that belonged to this puzzling woman she had already left him in the middle of the alley, the cool breeze helping him regain his composure.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen- A wayward son and a Hawke's rescue**

**Huge thanks to everyone who's read my story, I feel it's really helping me improve my writing. I am so sorry for the lack of updates, I've moved home recently and have been sorting a lot of stuff out. Forgive me! **

**I adore my beta, enchantm3nt for putting up with me and making this story amazing. **

**As always, hope you enjoy. **

_Her body was broken; she could feel every bruise, cut and burn that stained her skin. They took her in turns, thrusting themselves on her and having their way with her time and time again. It didn't bother her as much as it had on the first day. Their leader had been waylaid, it seemed, for one of them had said before he broke her that they would be here by morning. It had been three days and they did not let her sleep; all of them wanted to satisfy their frustrations on their apostate sex toy. They didn't say much to her, and the words she did catch were groans as they came in her. How these, _Templars,_ could treat her in such a way when they were sworn to protect her kind, to watch over them and protect them from themselves and others, was beyond her. Perhaps this was the will of the Maker, perhaps magic _was _a curse and perhaps this was all she was good for: a good fucking. Surely, if the Maker was just he would stop these bastards, stop the men that had killed her father agonisingly slowly, stop the torment, the torture, the endless rape she had so far endured. _

_If there was a Maker, he was a twisted son of a bitch, for nothing was worse than this. _

Hawke shot up from her bed, dissolving the same nightmare that always plagued her. She rubbed her forehead, trying to banish the headache that was already coming on and groaned. _Maker why did she drink so much?_ She mentally cursed the pirate and the shots she had supplied the group last night, noting that they were not Corff's usual diluted ale. She put her head back down on her mouldy pillow and tried to go back to sleep again, but after minutes she realised that the nightmare had defeated all chances of that happening.

"I know you're awake, Aria," Carver grumbled from his pillow.

"Well you don't have to be, go back to sleep," she whispered sternly, eyeing up her brother's silhouette in the darkness.

"Mmmpht,"

She rolled her eyes at Carver's sleepy groan and decided a walk would clear her severely hung over head; she tiptoed out of their bedroom not wanting to wake anyone else up, beckoning the mabari as she departed from the hovel.

She wondered what she could do at this time as she walked round the city with her mabari, Spike, who seemed to be happy just to get out of the claustrophobic hovel she was forced to call home. He wandered round sniffing aimlessly as enjoying the new smells.

Anders would be asleep or working at his clinic, Aveline would also be sleeping or working. Varric and Isabela would cut off her tits if she even tried to wake them up before dawn. And Fenris… she stopped mid-thought remembering her drunken flirting outside the tavern the night before and winced as if the memory had given her pain.

Spike looked at her with his head cocked to one side as if questioning her expression.

"I did something stupid, okay?" Hawke explained at the dog who huffed at her as if to say _when aren't you?_

Hawke rolled her eyes at the overbearingly intelligent hound and continued her walk. She was terribly drunk yesterday; she had the hangover to confirm it. But she may have overstepped the line when it had come to Fenris. Sure, she had always returned compliments with smiles to not offend the person that gave her them but she did not see anything with anyone going further than those compliments. She did not think she had the strength for that; her heart had become so cold since her had father died.

And yet, all it seemed to take was a lot of alcohol to overlook all of her defences and she became almost like Isabela. She stopped again and cringed, making Spike bark at her for stopping. The bark sliced into her like a knife. She could not face Fenris so quickly after last night, perhaps he thought she was just as bad as the pirate who blatantly said to the elf yesterday that she found him delicious and wanted a piece of him.

She wanted to cringe and stop again, but feared that the mabari would bark a war cry so loud that she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

She neared the grand tree that the city elves called Vhenadahl towards Merrill's house, knocking on the door as quietly as she could. The alienage houses were smaller than Gamlen's hovel and were more ramshackled together with not even the space for windows and just enough for a tiny wooden door.

Merrill was half-asleep when she greeted her, but invited her in enthusiastically, ushering her to the table and offering her a drink.

"Couldn't you sleep, Hawke?" Merrill asked, concern colouring her question.

"No, but you'll soon understand I never really can," Hawke replied, watching Merrill look for another cup for Hawke to drink from. It seemed the poor elf only had one, and Hawke felt a pang of pity for the Dalish woman; Hawke had always thought she had it bad, until she came to what Merrill called a home. She could see where Carver had started mending the roof, but as she viewed the other holes that were dotted on the ceiling she doubted that what the house needed was repairing, more like it needed rebuilding.

"Its fine, Merril. I'll grab a drink later, or we can share a cup I don't mind, honestly," Hawke reassured the elf who had become almost frantic looking for another cup for Hawke.

"I'm sure I bought two cups yesterday! I was so sure!" she said, panicking, looking around the dingy room as though the cup could have wandered away on its own.

Merrill sighed as she sat down opposite Hawke, a yawn escaping her mouth, confirming her tiredness. "I can leave if you like, Merrill, you can go back to bed," Hawke offered, stroking Spike as she watched the elf let out another yawn.

"Oh no Hawke, please stay! You never told me how you really got to know Tamlen!" she exclaimed, flashing an endearing smile.

Her smile was infectious, for Hawke found that she smiled back.

"It was many years ago. You passed Lothering and spent a few weeks near the town; I was out walking with Spike and Tamlen was watching me," Hawke said, a grin colouring her face as she remembered Tamlen.

"You must have gone quite far away from the city for you and Tamlen to cross paths," Merrill said, taking a sip of her cup of water and offering it to Hawke who shook her head at the elf's unorthodox kindness; she had been joking about sharing a cup but she soon realised Merrill hadn't taken it that way.

"I often wandered away from the town, it felt nice to walk away from the scrutiny of the Templars from time to time," Hawke answered, smiling at the fond memories of walking in the woods and embracing the serenity of the woodland. "But I knew he was following me, so I led him to the clearing in the woods where the river runs."

"And? Did you confront him?" Merrill asked, entranced in the story.

"More like _he_ confronted _me_, he realised that in the clearing there was nowhere else to hide so he walked out of the shadows. We stood there in silence for a moment before he told me that it was very late and it wasn't safe for a girl such as me to be out at such an hour. I thanked him for stating the obvious and that I would be fine as I knew the woods. He then stared at me and told me my hair was nice," Hawke told Merrill, a euphoric smile on her lips as she reminisced. She could almost smell the wet grass and summer flowers that filled that clearing.

"Your hair is very pretty, Hawke," Merril agreed, giving her a kind smile.

"Believe it or not, Merrill, my hair wasn't always like this," Hawke explained, repaying her with a grin, "I had the same colour hair as Carver, back then,"

"Your hair is pretty Hawke, I don't see many shem with the same colour as you, just old ones,"

"Another story for another time maybe," Hawke replied bluntily, not wanting to discuss anything to do withthe origins of her hair. She wrinkled her nose in discomfort, hoping the elf woman would deter from her curiousity.

"And then after he complimented you two became friends?" Merrill asked, going back to the previous conversation they were having.

"No, I saw he had a wound on his arm and healed him, he bowed and thanked me and we sat next to the river and talked for some time."

"and after that?"

"I saw him every evening at the same spot for two weeks, on the last night he came to me and told me they were leaving; I almost asked to go with him. I was just a young girl then, I thought I knew everything even though my father tried to point it out to me otherwise. He was a dear friend to me, but I knew I could not leave,"

"He disappeared many years ago, me and a friend and Tamlen journeyed into the forest on the rumour of a ruin that was creating some sort of taint amongst our clan. We found an Eluvian -a relic of the old ways- and I watched him disappear right into it. It's why I left my clan, Hawke; I can just feel that I can bring him back from the mirror. He can't be dead, but not only that, if I can make it work I could restore the history of our people," Merrill monolgued, pleading with Hawke as if she wanted her understanding or her blessing.

Hawke would give her understanding, for she knew if she could bring Bethany back she would siege the Black City and ascend the stairs to face the Maker with her blades ready without a second thought. But she couldn't give Merrill her blessing, Merrill had already proven just how far she was willing to go to help her people… talking with demons, blood magic, it made Hawke uncomfortable and she wasn't go to encourage that.

"Merrill, Tamlen is dead. You know this to be true, he was so stubborn; he would have made his way back to your people by now if he was still alive. I want us to be friends, I have great respect for the Dalish, but I am not comfortable with your use of blood magic and I do not like you talking to that demon." Merrill tried to open her mouth, probably to tell her it was a spirit but Hawke shot her a look and kept talking, "I don't want you to be driven mad by this or worse to become an abomination. If that happens, Merrill, I will have no choice but to cut you down, do you understand?" she said as softly as she could.

"I… understand," Merril concluded with a nod.

"Well, c'mon then," Hawke said, standing up.

"Why? Where are we going?" Merril asked, confused.

"If me and my dear brother are helping you fix your roof, then maybe we should go get two cups so we can all have a drink," Hawke said, flashing a wide smile at the elf who returned it gratefully.

The market area of the Alienage was bustling with people as the traders set up their stalls and prepared for the long day ahead. Hawke's eyes caught sight of a glint of silver and she instinctively grabbed Merrill and ducked behind a stand. Hawke peered around to look at the Templar speaking with a pleading elven woman.

Hawke hid her magic well, but she took appropriate precautions around Templars out of habit and by now she was comfortable enough to be around them with her pretences but Merrill stuck out like a sore thumb and she would not allow anyone, Templar or not, to take someone she called a friend.

"I am sorry for your loss mistress, but I can only offer your son mercy unless he turns himself in," the bearded Templar said, his voice was stern but gentle.

The ginger elven woman pleaded to him, "I am trying to find him but-"

The Templar interrupted her, waving his hand to stop her. "The Templars cannot tolerate apostates."

The elven woman nodded tearfully, and the Templar turned swiftly and walked out of the Alienage. When the Templar left, she began to cry loudly, though no one came to comfort her.

The sight of the crying woman tugged at Hawke's heartstrings. She couldn't help but picture her mother in such a state should Hawke be taken to the Gallows. She'd probably end up regretting it but she stepped forward and cleared her throat. The elf looked up at her, slightly startled, her eyes teary.

"It sounds like your son is in trouble, is there anything I can do?" Hawke asked, watching the woman wipe away her tears.

"You…you heard all of that and you still want to help? An apostate? Oh thank you…" the woman replied, still wiping away her tears but looking at Hawke gratefully, "I am Arianni, my boy, Feynriel… he is all I have. I learned he had magic and I could not bear to send him to the Circle," she sobbed again, wiping her tears with her hands.

Hawke rooted around in her pocket and found a small handkerchief that was slightly dirty and offered it to the woman who took it thankfully.

"But his connection to the Fade, it gives him nightmares. He dreams of demons speaking in his mind. I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself," the woman said, wiping her heavily tattooed face clean of tears once more.

"What exactly do you wish me to do, Serah?" Hawke asked the woman politely, not wanting to press her for too much information lest she start crying again. Hawke hated it when people cried, not because it was awkward, but because she had not cried for nearly seven years now and just couldn't feel as compassionate towards people who cried so freely because they wore their hearts on their sleeves for all to see. In her eyes that was one of the greatest weaknesses there was.

The woman widened her eyes at Hawke calling her Serah, but replied, "Just find him, please I don't know where Feynriel has gone, but there are two places that you may start your search. Ser Thrask has been looking for him, if you go to Gallows he may be able to tell you the ground he has searched. And Feynriel's father, Vincento, recently returned from Antiva; he is trading in the Lowtown Bazaar. Feynriel may have sought his father out," she pleaded with Hawke, her eyes beginning to water again.

"I will not leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary," Hawke confirmed, looking at the woman, empathetic to her plight.

"Magic is a gift, your son deserves a chance to harness his power," Merrill finally interrupted, looking at Hawke almost admirably. Hawke found Merrill endearing and sweet to say the least; it was no wonder to her that her brother liked her despite her choice of magic.

"Thank you, it has been a long time hiding, it is a relief to finally confront this," Arianni sighed, her tears ceasing at Hawke's promise of rescuing her son.

Hawke merely nodded her head and walked away from the woman with Merrill in tow. She would need to speak to the Templar, and that would mean going to the Gallows, which meant she'd need some sort of back up or distraction.

"Merrill, go to the Hanged Man and wake Varric. Spike, go home and get Carver," she commanded, her pace quickening, she already knew where she was going.

"And what will you be doing, Hawke?" Merrill asked, confused, as she stood next to the mabari who held the same expression as the Dalish elf.

"I am going to get Fenris," she stated, walking up the stairs to Hightown.

She kept to the shadows on her way to Fenris' mansion, hoping she wouldn't run into any trouble along the way. Her methods proved effective and she was soon at his mansion. She crept in through the dusty entranceway, her breathing the only sound she could hear. She wondered if Fenris was here at all; perhaps her drunken flirting had scared him off? She walked up the stairs and headed to the master bedroom, hoping to find him within.

The bedroom was dark, and she could not hear nor sense anyone in the room. She tried to readjust her eyes to the darkness but before she could a blade whirled her way towards her throat, inches from slicing her skin.

"State your business," he growled, the lyrium glowing slightly. In the light of the lyrium he saw that it was her, and lowered his weapon slowly, glaring at her.

"Hawke, I do not like being woken up unceremoniously, have you ever tried knocking?" he said, his voice heavy with sleep but still sarcastic nonetheless.

"Why is it that everyone seems to be persistent with training me into this whole knocking business," she huffed dramatically, raising her arms.

"Maybe they are merely trying to teach you manners so one day somebody will not slit your throat in panic," he replied, rubbing his head as he sat down on one of the armchairs that were by the fire.

"Ah, hung-over are we, Fenris?" she asked humorously, eyeing the elf as he continued to rub his head as if to massage his obvious state away.

"I have had worse," he stated, glaring at her once more.

"I thought you might have left," she replied, trying to make her tone indifferent to the fact when truth be told she was glad he was still here.

"It seems I was persuaded otherwise," he said, his lips turning up only slightly, but Hawke got the impression it was a half-grin.

"Indeed, anyways I was wondering if I may borrow your sword today," she asked, trying to be polite at the elf's bluntness. She knew Fenris was not the way he was by choice, and she knew that feeling more than most.

"You can borrow it if you wish, Hawke, however I doubt you could lift it," he replied, ceasing to rub his temples he looked up at her with a dark humour on his face.

She almost laughed at Fenris' jest, but her hangover had not fully left. Instead she grinned at him and replied, "Fine, I would like to borrow you for the day if you do not mind; I have a job and you'll get a fair split of the coin."

The elf looked at her with an unfathomable expression on his face; he was extremely hard to read which irked Hawke. She was good at reading most people, yet Fenris' face was almost always a mask.

"If this job entails your pirate friend and me sating her every desire or fantasy that she seems to have with me, then it is not worth all the coin in the world."

She laughed at that, remembering Isabela's advances on Fenris the night before. "Well, Isabela is going to be disappointed it seems she has taken a liking to you,"

"It seems she was not the only one last night," he replied, a grin truly on his face as he reached for his mug of water on the floor.

She wrinkled her nose, it was a habit she could not get rid of since childhood, whenever something happened that she did not like or felt comfortable with her nose would take over her face and wrinkle with discomfort.

"Indeed, alcohol makes some people rather loose lipped," she said, trying to stop the conversation from steering towards her drunken flirting last night. She hoped he wouldn't tell anyone about it; Varric would have a field day.

He nodded, making her almost breathe out a sigh of relief.

"If you need me, I will come, Hawke," he said, his eyes locking into hers for a moment. His gaze made her feel as if she was burning, but not in an uncomfortable manner.

"Thank you, as I said you will get a fair share of the coin," she said.

"What does the job entail?" he asked, looking at her dubiously for a moment. She must have sounded strange repeating herself and not explaining the job to him.

"A mage has run away in fear of his own power, his mother has asked us to commandeer him and get him to go to the Circle where he can harness his power," she explained, watching his features as he raised one black eyebrow at her.

"You would put your own kind in the Circle?" he asked, shock being the main factor in his voice.

"If I thought them a threat to the city… if I thought that the Circle could help them control their magic, then yes. But as of right now I don't know enough about the situation to decide such a thing," she replied around the lump in her throat as he watched her with eyes full of scrutiny.

"All mages are a danger," he hissed at her, the lyrium had finally had dulled down so there was nothing but the dark. It made her feel somewhat more comfortable at being alone with the elf who hated mages; at least the shadows were on her side.

"Everyone is a danger, but the path you choose is what dictates whether you're a danger, do you think I'm dangerous because of what I am, Fenris?" she asked, although she already thought she knew her answer.

"No, but that could change at any time," he replied, his voice serious.

"And could that not be said the same of_ you_?" she replied, her wit lacing her voice as she empathized the word _you._

They stood in silence for a moment, she wondered if he would even dignify her with a response to her argument.

"Yes, it could," was all he could reply, it seemed.

She wasn't sure why she cared enough to argue about any of this, she usually didn't give a crap what others thought; her heart was too icy for that. "Then don't judge so harshly, you may think I am naïve but I am not," she said and he nodded at her.

"What are your leads on this apostate," he said, and his use of the word apostate stung her in a way. She did not let him see that it bothered her, she wore her mask so well it had become who she really was these days, unless alcohol was involved, it seemed.

"We are heading to the Gallows to speak to the Templar who has been searching for the boy, and then the boy's father who he hasn't ever met, these are the best leads we have for now," she replied, her voice taking a neutral ground.

"You go to the Gallows so freely? What if they apprehend you?" he asked her as he got up and moved the dusty curtains, letting light into the bedroom. She screwed up her eyes for a moment, trying to make her sight readjust to the light.

She looked at the elf that stood before her, a scowl on his lips as he questioned her. She would never say it out loud, but Isabela was right, the elf was indeed attractive, maybe not as much as Isabela exaggerated like she had last night. His white lines almost glowed without him commanding them to in the rays of light. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, she was foolish. She could not distract herself from the task at hand, she did not have the time nor energy for men, especially men that dressed themselves in spikes that screamed _stay away from me or I'll make you eat your own heart. _

"I would, the Templars don't even regard me, it seems, they all think I'm an annoying smuggler and that's about it," she replied, snapping herself out of her trail of thought by the elf's scowl turning into a full blown glower.

He gestured towards the door, nodding forward without replying to her. She found it odd, but maybe he had nothing to say and his life as a slave didn't teach him the simple mechanics of starting and ending a conversation.

They went to the Hanged Man and found that Isabela, Varric, Merril and her brother were waiting for her. They all greeted her with a smile apart from her brother who gave her a stern nod. She rolled her eyes, she knew he was annoyed that she went to Merrill's on her own, and that he was even more annoyed that she went to get Fenris without anyone with her, Fenris had made his hatred of mages quite known the last few days.

"Varric, Merrill, are you ready to head out?" she said, nodding at the dwarf and the pirate who lounged in their chairs casually as if they were about to go on a picnic rather than a man hunt.

"Merrill's not going; I am, sister," Carver said, his eyes glowering at her.

"Carver, I am a big girl and I am not scared to go there on my own," Hawke said, not wanting her brother to come along. She was sick of being almost coddled by her brother, ever since…

Ever since Bethany had died.

"I am not letting you walk into the blighted Gallows without me. What happens if you get taken?" he said in a hush tone, his eyebrows furrowed displaying the same Hawke stubbornness that they both possessed.

"I'm barely a mage, they wouldn't even bother with little old me," she said, trying to make the situation lighter.

It only made her brother more annoyed; he gave her a scowl that rivalled the one that Fenris had thrown at her earlier.

"Junior, I'll be there and I'll make sure Hawke stays away from the men with the shiny stuff," Varric joked, aiding her attempt at lightening the mood.

Isabela barked out a laugh at Varric's statement, obviously thinking it was ridiculous to insinuate that Hawke would even dare go near a _man's shiny's. _

"Even so, I will be accompanying her," he said it as if it were fact and Hawke rolled her eyes in defeat.

"Well, if that's what you want, brother dearest, then so it shall be," she said, dipping into a low bow at her brother who shook his head at her dramatics, "but I will not be blamed for having my way with the men and their shiny armour," she said adding a wink whilst she got up from her bow.

"Hawke, you make life a lot more fun to be around," Varric chuckled, strapping Bianca on his back as they made their way out to the gallows…

The Gallows courtyard was full of Templars, as she had expected. Kirkwall was a city, much larger than the rural town of Lothering, when she grew up she knew of only five Templars that were based in the farm town. But Kirkwall, on the other hand, had a small army of them. They watched the mages around the Gallows with cold eyes, watching for any one of them to crack and become a demon's vessel.

She entered the Gallows with a feigned manner of confidence, this was the largest gathering of Templars she had ever seen and it put her on edge. She looked around to see if she could recognise the Templar that was speaking to the elven woman in the Alienage, but had no luck. She observed the Templars and the mages for a moment longer, looking for their leader.

"I have heard of the Circle outside the imperium but I have not been in one," Fenris said, looking around the gallows courtyard that was littered with old imperium slave statues with curiosity. His eyes cast around the many Templars that were flashing them suspicious glances and turned to Hawke, "are you sure it is why for you to be here?" he asked, his eyes darting around the Templars as if watching for them to notice Hawke.

"Yes, like I said I'm just here to speak to Thrask," she replied once again looking around the Gallows.

She found a man stood near the stairs, his arms were crossed and he viewed everyone in the courtyard with great scrutiny as if watching to make sure protocols were being done correctly and routine was in order. She had a gut feeling that this was indeed the leader she had been looking for, and made her way towards him.

"This seems more like a prison, I wonder if it is more effective than the Circle I know," Fenris murmured more to himself than Hawke, but she still replied to him.

"The Circle is necessary for some," she whispered, approaching the Templar leader.

"Hello, I was wondering if you could aid me, Serah, my name is Hawke," she introduced herself, bowing slightly at the Templar that stood before her. He had rugged manly features, and donned stubble on his face. He was still young, but she could tell by his eyes that he had seen many things in his short time on this world.

"Serah Hawke, I must say you are not quite the ten foot ogre eating man that I have heard so much about," the Templar said, bowing slightly. He was quite knightly it seemed.

"No, I am afraid I am not, Serah, you should know better to listen to rumours," she said, returning his bow with a confident wink. The Templar had not seized nor screamed apostate at her, so she knew that her years of practise had fared her well.

"I am Knight Captain Cullen, and I try not to. I find myself happy to see you are the complete opposite of these rumours, although none of them spoke of how lovely you were," he said, giving her a small smile.

She pursed her lips and smiled at him, knowing when to back down on the banter to make sure no one thought she was flirting back. She resisted looking at her brother or Varric or she would most likely go red to her roots, he was something that Isabela would have described as dreamy. She cursed herself for being around the pirate too much.

"I thank you for you compliment, but I have not come here for your delightful conversation. I am looking for Ser Thrask, I have taken up a request from Arianni of the Alienage and was wondering if he could assist me in my work," she explained, becoming business-like.

"Delightful indeed, Ser Thrask is speaking with Sol the herbalist,"

"I thank you, Ser Cullen. Good day," she said, bidding him farewell. Before she could move another step he grabbed her wrist whilst she turned, sending waves of panic into her body. She turned around expecting him to clap in her in irons to be amongst her kind.

"I was wondering, the next time I escort the recruits to the Hanged Man, if I may have the honour of buying you a drink?" he asked, smiling at her none the wiser to what she truly was.

"I would like that, Serah," she said, nodding a farewell and walking towards the herbalist's stall.

She heard Carver and Varric snicker, and turned around with a faint warmness on her cheeks. Fenris' face seemed indifferent to what had happened. Maybe, he thought nothing of the flirting she had participated on him yesterday and thought nothing of what happened. _Maker, she was giving him the impression she and Isabela were very alike._

She wrinkled her nose at her overthinking and then eyed her brother and the dwarf with disdain.

"Yes? Is something amusing?" she asked, eyeing the dwarf who smiled up at her sweetly.

"Just me and Junior laughing at the irony of the possible outcomes from that drink," Varric said, his eyes twinkling under Hawke's stern gaze.

"Nothing will come of it, thank you, but I thought it wise not to deny him given his status and what I am and what I want to do and with whom is nothing to find funny anyway," she snapped, making her brother and the dwarf laugh a little more. Her eyes glared over to Fenris, and she saw even under his mask of indifference the corners of his lips turned up slightly.

"Can you imagine it if they got married?" Carver snorted, still chuckling with the dwarf.

"I wish it would happen, can you imagine his fucking face! I think I found my next novel, the apostate and the Templar," Varric snickered.

She rolled her eyes and scowled at them, making them both shut up abruptly. At least they knew that when she scowled it meant the time for joking was over.

Thrask was speaking to the herbalist, Sol, animatedly, almost as if they were good friends rather than Templar and mage, it was odd for Hawke to see a sight like this, there was always general animosity between the two sides and her family were living proof of it. Lothering was the place they had stayed the longest but her childhood had been moving from one to place to another with barely any personal possessions. Father only ever allowed them to take essentials.

She coughed politely whilst she stood next to the Templar she had seen earlier today.

"Good day, Serah, I hear you are the Templar pursuing Feynriel. I have agreed to help Arianni in the pursuit for her son and was wondering if you had found anything significant regarding him," she said politely, once again giving the Templar a low bow.

The man had kind eyes, she noticed as he looked at her. He was far from the stereotype that she had come to believe all Templars were. He nodded a greeting but was altogether suspicious of Hawke, as he had every right to be. He told her everything she needed to know however, and when she exited the Gallows she felt somewhat relieved that she was not clapped in irons ready to take her Harrowing that very day.

They went to speak to the boy's father too, he had some distrust of their group when they first approached him but Hawke must have sounded sincere to him because when she vowed he would not be harmed he told her everything. He spoke quickly and Hawke found it rather hard to understand his heavy Antivan accent, when she left after bidding him good day she had to ask anyone if they got any of that.

"You are veeery preeetty lady, si?" Varric said, trying with great difficulty to copy the man's accent.

"Varric, that was terrible, I don't think I can talk to you for a while after that," Hawke said, rolling her eyes in mock-disgust at the dwarf.

"So, all we have to do is wait until night fall and find this ex Templar. Fenris you don't have to come with us, if you don't want to," she said, looking at the lyrium laced elf; Templars were renowned for taking lyrium to aid them in their skills, and an ex Templar would be suffering from extreme withdrawal, having had his supply cut off. It would surely be unwise to bring Fenris to such a person.

The elf gazed down at her with an annoyed expression on his face, it seemed he did not work out what she had. He loomed over her for a second and then became the figure of indifference once again. _Maker, he was tall for an elf!_

"I am able to fight, Hawke," he said, his face stoic.

"Yes, I know that very well, I have seen you. But I do not want you going to an ex Templar with lyrium withdrawal, he'll be able to smell it from a mile away and you're ahem, hmm, how do I phrase it. He could start to get a little edgy if he works out what your tattoos truly are," she explained to him, not wanting the man to come into harm's way, this was not his plight and it seemed he had only just grasped his own freedom, she didn't want to make him more hunted, especially if this Samson had a lot more ex Templar friends.

He shot another expression at her, his face as always unreadable.

"I thank you for your concern, no matter I will come with you I doubt he would be able to extract anything from me," he said, a cool confidence in his voice.

"Fenris, I don't want you in harm's way," she started to say, but he raised a clawed hand in defiance, signalling the conversation had ended.

"I hate that this job involves so many blighted Templars," Carver huffed more to himself than anyone, but Hawke found that she agreed terribly.

They walked towards the alleyway in Lowtown that led to Darktown just as it had begun to get dark, and found the ex-Templar Samson to be the complete opposite of what she had expected, from what she could decipher from Vincento's heavy accent. He was pale and was very unkempt, his eyes sunken in from the obvious withdrawal to the lyrium.

"Huh, Vincento said someone come sniffing around," Samson said, his voice raspy as if he were in need of a drink, "you're looking for the boy, Feyn something?" he added, eyeing up Hawke suspiciously.

"Indeed I am, Serah, since Vincento has obviously told you everything," Hawke said, watching the man's fingers as they twiddled and grabbed at thin air. Oh he could definitely smell the lyrium in the air, but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it.

"I'll tell you now, there's not much I can do for you. There weren't much I could do for him either, lad was dead broke, not a copper to his name, can't be helping one mageling for nothing, I won't be getting paid again. So I pointed him to a ship I knew, under command of Captain Reynar sometimes hell take 'em on. Might have gone wrong though, might be taking him captive instead," he drawled, not seemingly bothered about the safety of the boy who had come to him for help.

Hawke's eyes narrowed at the pathetic excuse for a man as he stared at her blankly, not even so much bothered that her temper was starting to get the better of her. She wrinkled her nose but even that motion was denied by her temper.

"What do you mean _might_?" Hawke hissed, disgusted in this pitiful excuse of a soldier from the mighty order of the maker. He made her feel sick.

"I just drop 'em off away from Circle, don't care what happens next. My jobs done, ain't it, said the same to other mage that asked for my help with no coin last week" he said, his sunken eyes boring into hers. "You got any dust?" he asked her, eyeing their belts for even a sniff of lyrium.

"No, I do not have any dust," she sneered at the man, whose hand movements were becoming frantic. "Do you have any idea where he could be now?"

"Reynar would have put them in his foundry warehouse 'til his business is complete,"

"And what will happen to them when his business is complete?" she asked, restraining herself from ripping the man's head off. How could someone be so uncaring? She looked at his hands again, they were practically vibrating. It seemed his addiction for lyrium had eaten away his very soul.

"He'll probably sell them with rest of cargo," he replied.

That was it, she could not hold in her rage any longer. The fact that these mages and other innocent people were going to be enslaved and sold like boxes of fruit and this man had just said it so casually you would have thought he was merely remarking on the weather. After traipsing round for information all day she had truly had her last straw. Fenris' growl explained exactly how she felt towards slavery.

"Fucking arsehole," she said to Samson as she turned to storm off, he didn't seem even dazed by her insult.

"So now what?" Varric panted, trying to match her pace as she walked quickly away from the Templar.

"What do you fucking think, dwarf?" she asked him incredulously, as if he was asking a very obvious question.

"I guess we're off to rescue some damsels?" Varric asked, although he already knew the answer.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

So, I had to split this because it was so long, but I decided since I hadn't updated you guys deserved these two chapters!

Thank you, to my beta she is so great! Honestly, Enchantm3nt! I love you, I do.

Thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites!

x

She dived into the shadows on the way to the Lowtown foundry, opting for stealth and speed rather than an open attack. As they got closer she made a bird noise out to Varric: their signal that she was going to scout first and she would signal again.

The warehouse was silent. It seemed that most of the cargo had been moved and the only remaining things to be shipped were a few crates, there was no sign of any slaves or Feynriel. She signalled for the others to come forward, but before she could wait for them she heard struggling and voices coming from a room at the back.

"Get a hold of her!" a man's voice shouted as she heard the quick footsteps of someone trying to flee.

Hawke burst through the door not thinking of her own welfare and found a woman wearing circle robes being cornered by two men with swords; they jeered at her as she backed up into the corner. She screamed again, but they didn't listen as they manhandled her. Hawke looked at the woman and froze for second, remembering things from years past.

"Please, help me… anyone," the mage moaned as they grabbed her.

"Get the hands! I've heard they can't do no fucking magic without their hands being free," one of them shouted to his partner, as he grabbed the rope to tie her hands.

"NO!" Hawke screamed, but it was too late.

The mage started to shake violently, she knew she the woman was battling the temptation of a demon, but the vibrating indicated the demon was winning. The shaking became more erratic and the woman burst into flames, the abomination taking over her entire being, making her flesh mangled and her face deformed.

The abomination flew into the air, hitting one of the men into the wall and killing him instantly.

"You know nothing of magic!" the abomination roared to the other man, who had yelped and scarpered as fast he could. Hawke couldn't blame him; this girl had sacrificed herself to be rid of these men.

She heard running behind her and Varric's familiar voice broke her out of her frozen horror at the abomination.

"Hawke, you don't have to run off you're not- holy shit!" Varric said behind her, obviously only just noticing the abomination.

Hawke felt truly sorry for the young woman, many years ago that could have been her. It was at least some comfort that she could send the girl to the Maker's side with some mercy rather than that of the Templars.

She grabbed her blades and readied herself for the fight. She dived for the abomination, aiming for its chest but it seemed to already know her plan, it began to lift her up into the air but before it could even throw her she saw the familiar flare of blue phasing near it causing it to be distracted by Fenris in full glow. It dropped her to the floor.

She sliced at its feet, trying to bring it down but it seemed it would not go without a fight. She dived in between Carver and Fenris who were slashing it in unison, slicing where she could. It began to weaken, and she decided to take her opportunity in giving the woman that it was once before some mercy.

But she was too late; Fenris snarled in the night and lunged his sword right in the heart. Its scream was high pitched, and its body fell to the ground with a thud. He looked at her almost victoriously as if he had purposefully stolen the kill for his own.

She rolled her eyes at the elf, and knelt down to look to see if there was anything left of the woman before, in the pocket of the ripped dress she found a letter signed to Ser Thrask.

_Father, _

_I know the sacrifices you've made to conceal my secret, but I am a child no longer. I cannot burden you my whole life, lest my secret destroy us both. I must live my own life as a woman... and as a mage. It is oddly freeing to write the word. _

_Farewell, Father. I hope one day you make peace between what you have been taught and what you have seen. _

_All my love,  
Olivia _

Hawke could not believe that the mage before her was a Templar's daughter. It seemed so against nature, the laws stated that no children could be made from the Circle, and if any did occur they would not stay with their parents. A thousand questions popped into her head for Ser Thrask, especially the irony and hypocrisy of today's event.

She turned to face the group who were waiting for her to say something expectedly, and for once she seemed lost for words, she passed the letter to Varric who read it aloud for the group. She could feel the heat of eyes piercing her and found that they belonged to Fenris. He stared at her intensely, and although she stared back she could sense the other man that had manhandled the mage hiding behind one of the crates, waiting to move.

She felt it again whilst she stared at him, some form of moth or butterfly in her stomach. He seemed to be looking at her deeply, as if trying to read her thoughts.

The man behind the crate tried to make a run for it, but she already knew what he was going to do. She took the throwing knife that she kept on her belt and aimed it at the man's head before turning back round to the group nonchalantly, as if they were playing a harmless game of crochet. The chink of metal and thud confirming that it had made its mark.

She walked towards the chest that was stood on one of the crates and found it to be unlocked. There were a few pieces of gold, and some odd trinkets but she was more concerned about the paper in there. It was as she suspected, the captains accounts; a loose term for accounts since it was more of an inventory of every elf, mage and other person that he had rounded up to be sold into a life of slavery, plus a few trade items that were surprisingly legal.

She groaned seeing that Feynriel had been taken to Darktown, this seemed like some fucked up scavenger hunt.

"Well, I know where he is, at least," she groaned, passing the letter to Varric.

"Sister, why can't we have easy jobs?" Carver asked groaning at the inventory that told them Feynriel was with a slaver in Darktown.

"You saw what happened when we took an easy job," she said, nodding her head to Fenris who scowled at her.

"I shall endeavour to exist with less offense, Hawke," Fenris scowled.

"Why thank you so much, Fenris, although no one is complaining about you being here," Hawke said indifferently.

"Yep, especially you," Varric muttered, making Carver flash a small smile at the witty dwarf's words.

"Pardon, Varric?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at the dwarf who smiled at her sweetly. She did not trust that smile any more than she trusted her own.

She rolled her eyes at the dwarf's innuendos. She hadn't stared at the elf that much, and if she had it was for the blazing hatred he allowed to exhale all over her with his mere presence. He watched her just as much, most likely checking if she was still human.

"Are we going now?" Carver asked, yawning despite himself.

"Yes," Hawke said, as if they were asking stupid questions.

"Hawke, we all need sleep. We don't just hang about on rooftops at night like you do, waiting for the sun to break; the dark heroine who lives amongst the shadows," Varric said, embellishing the statement far too much. It was one of the many things she enjoyed about the dwarf however.

"Indeed, well go ahead and go to sleep," she retorted in annoyance. She needed to find the boy before something happened to him; with or without her entourage.

"Hawke, that means you as well," Varric sighed, rubbing his eyes from fatigue.

"I think not, I won't stop until I find him," she said, looking down at the exhausted dwarf with an air of stubbornness.

"If you go out there alone, you will surely fall prey to these slavers yourself," Fenris said ominously, adding to the conversation.

Hawke's eyebrow raised up at the sound of Varric and Fenris agreeing with each other. It almost felt she was being ganged up and forced to go to sleep. _Surely, the escaped slave could see that they had to stop the hunters now rather than later?_

"I think I'd look rather fetching with chains on," she said, a coy grin on her face making Fenris scowl at her.

_Of course Aria, when cornered laugh it off… _

"That is not something you wish to say lightly, you know nothing of slavery," Fenris growled, his normal mask of indifference cracking quickly. It seemed that the former slave was driven by nothing but his temper.

"You know nothing of me; therefore my knowledge of slavery is also unknown to you. This isn't the point, the point is that either you can help me or I'll ask Merrill and Anders, make a choice," she said, just wanting to get the boy safe and sound. She had already seen one mage succumb to the pleas of a demon and didn't want the same to happen to the young elf.

"Oh yes, let's send the abomination and the blood mage, I'm sure they are _exactly_ the role models that the apostate boy needs," fenris argued back, leaving Varric to sigh and watch where the debate was going.

Her eyes narrowed at Fenris at the words abomination and blood mage, for a moment she considered maybe slapping him. She was frustrated, she felt like she had accomplished nothing today but watching another mage become a demon.

"Oh and what am I then, Fenris?" she spat at him, waiting for his response. It felt good to argue with someone.

He narrowed his gaze at her, his eyes becoming slits as he obviously thought of something to argue back to her. Before he could say anything, Varric cut into the conversation.

"Hawke, I say we sleep on it, then we go talk to him. He's not going to tell us where he's hiding all the slaves he's been gathering if we sneak up on him whilst he's in his nightie snoring like a high dragon," Varric said, with Carver nodding in agreement.

"Fine, but only if I get to sleep with you, my dear dwarf," she said, trying to lighten up. She knew what she was going to do, regardless of what they wanted her to do. Her will bent to no man, or anyone for that matter. Possibly her mother on a bad day, but it had to be a _very_ bad day.

"As much as I would love that my beautiful bird of prey, I think Bianca would get jealous," Varric said, throwing her a wink.

"Fine, I'll go to sleep. You win," she said, luring them into their fake victory. She would go home, wait until her brother started his drooling that signalled that he was fast asleep and take to scaling the rooftops and get to Darktown, maybe calling on Merril and Anders on her way.

"I don't normally say this crap, but thank the ancestors!" Varric triumphed, walking towards the door…

She waited in her bed for at least an hour, knowing her brother's tell-tale signs like the back of her hands. As soon as he fell into a deep sleep she quickly changed into her armour, choosing the new black leather set she had purchased. It was a coal black and would enhance her ability to hide within the shadows. She quickly tied her hair in a bun and tip-toed towards the door and walked into the fresh air that was Lowtown.

It was twilight, not quite night time but not quite day. She grabbed at the loose bricks of Gamlen's hovel and began to climb to the roof tops, her pace quickening at the thought of waking her brother (or even worse Gamlen) up with her climbing.

She ran quickly around the rooftops, avoiding the chimneys that were dotted around the roofs with great ease. In the year that she had been here it had become common for her to scale the rooftops of Kirkwall, and in an odd sort of way the rooftops felt like home, more so than her uncle's home. Whilst running freely along the rooftops, dodging the parts that were beyond repair she felt like she was running through a field in the farm hold, but somewhat more concrete and smoky.

She got to the last house and flipped with great ease, enjoying the thrill of the motion. Carver always thought she did it just to show off to people, but she truly did it because the feeling of having her blood rush to her in an adrenaline rush just reminded her of being a child again. The swift arch of her body and the way her body and mind were connected so primarily, were also benefactors for her love of flipping and diving all over the place. In fact, if she got the money for the expedition, one of the Amell estate rooms would be converted into her own training ground. Where she could flip and twist and no one would think she was a mere show girl to entertain them with her flexible flesh.

She landed on the cobbled pavement, near the stairs leading to Darktown, but before she could gather her bearings, a hand grabbed her arm; instinctively she snarled. She looked up and the first thing she noticed was his white hair. He was looking at her with a deep scowl, almost like the one her father used to give her when she would_ accidently _set Carver's trousers on fire.

"Hawke," he merely stated, looking down at her annoyed.

"Fenris, I thought you were living up in your Hightown mansion? You shouldn't be out on your own at this time," she joked, removing his arm as if was something distasteful she had trodden on in the street. He was very close to her and she didn't like it one bit, yet a familiar burn flared in her stomach. She jolted back, leaving a gap between them.

"That is not your concern, I was merely strolling the streets unlike you with your obvious intent. The dwarf said that it was the first time you had complied with anything they suggested, I found this anomaly to be somewhat suspicious," he said, a smug grin on his face as he had caught her out.

"Oh! And you thought you'd come to my rescue to make sure I didn't go see the big bad slaver all on my own? Thank you for your kindness, it has touched my heart. Now move the fuck away it's none of your business," she retorted, if this elf intended to stay amongst their gang of misfits he would surely learn that when Hawke had something on her mind, she would go do whatever it was. She would call it ambition, Carver and her mother both called it _stubbornness._

He cocked an eyebrow at her sarcasm, but did not let any other emotion escape his face.

"I am merely trying to get you to realise how strategically insufficient your goal of running into a slaver den alone is, and I didn't intend to run into you, I was walking back from speaking with the dwarf and I heard something on the roof," he insisted, but it made her even more suspicious.

"Lovely, thank you for your concern, good night," Hawke said, walking past him. She heard him curse quietly in Tevinter, and then he seemed to take it upon himself to follow her. Whilst she walked down the stairs he was silent for a while.

"You are stubborn, Hawke," he stated, as they walked towards Anders' clinic.

"And you are being extremely rude," Hawke snapped back.

"Why is it so urgent that you do this now? Varric was right, we need our rest to go against these slavers," he said.

"Fenris, what would you do if they were going to capture you?" Hawke asked him, knowing full well what the white haired elf would in fact do, he would shine blue and tear out the hearts of everyone in the vicinity, she didn't know him well but she knew it to be true.

"If I was as exhausted as you are, I would find somewhere to rest at least for a few hours, then I would come up with a plan," Fenris replied, keeping up with her quickened pace.

That shocked her, the man obviously oozed hate and walked around in spikes that screamed to anyone who dared look at them _STAY AWAY _ she did not think that he would be so strategic, then again this man had freed himself from his master and had been on the run for a while now, without being caught.

"I am not exhausted, and I will not sleep until the boy and the others are safe. You don't know me very well Fenris, and normally I'd be perfectly charming to a new person in town, but _stop_ stalking me with the aim of talking me down. I'm doing this," she said bluntly. It was true, with or without her friends she would go to find the apostate boy and the others that this slaver had taken. Fenris did not know her, but surely Varric should have known by now? She would not sleep until they were safe; it was a personal vendetta that she kept close to her heart. In her heart she knew that everyone should be free, even the Circle should have its own sense of freedom, but with discipline. What could she say? She was an idealist.

He seemed to just follow her in silence then, he could tell she was exhausted? He was the first person to notice when the fatigue kicked in apart from Carver. Most people never seemed to notice how exhausted she was, and yet this elf had noticed within knowing her no more than a week or so? He was extremely perceptive it seemed, she didn't like that one bit. To be under the spot light of someone's gaze that could see her friendly mask, it truly scared her…

When they got to the clinic, they found Anders… And Varric.

He was sat on one of the cot beds, his short dwarven legs not reaching the ground; he was swinging them almost like a child as he hummed to himself. He turned round and met Hawke's gaze with a wicked grin, almost jumping off the bed as he walked towards her with the same all-knowing and smug grin.

"Well, Daisy, is this a makeover or make under? You seem somewhat uglier than I remember," Varric cajoled, winking at Fenris.

"Silence, Dwarf, I apprehended her before she made it to the alienage it seemed. I was intending on going home and not following with your plan, especially the part where we have to meet at the abomination's clinic," Fenris growled, making Varric's smile widened.

"It's okay, Broody, you know I love you too! So how did you apprehend our dear Hawke here?" he asked, looking at Hawke as she rolled her eyes. Of _course_ Varric knew; he had been working with her for a while now, she should have seen the sincerity when he bade her goodnight and said he was glad she finally listened to him. _Fucking rogues…_

"I could hear her on the roof," Fenris stated, ignoring Varric's jests.

"Hawke, you wound me! You're getting careless if even the elf could hear you whilst in a fit of broody rage!" Varric said, eyeing her up as if she was some relic he was going to sell.

"Or maybe he was hunting me down to rid the world of another mage, then he saw me going to Anders' clinic and thought two birds one stone!" Hawke said, joining the conversation.

She couldn't see Ander's but she heard a loud snort come from the back of the clinic, meaning that he was listening to the conversation. Fenris noted the snort and rolled his eyes, his lips mashed together as if he was holding back the insults. She could feel them almost frothing at his mouth.

"If he did that, Bianca and I may have to do something about him," Varric joked, winking at her wit.

"You and I seem to have an accord, my dear dwarf," Hawke said, looking down smiling at the dwarf that she was so comfortable with it seemed like they had always been friends.

"You're not bad for a human, Hawke" he laughed, winking at her.

It was nice that there was someone in this city apart from her brother that seemed to know her better than most. Varric seemed trustworthy to her and worthy of her time and honour, he seemed to know her and her moods already. She enjoyed his company; it was easy to joke and be free with him there. He distracted her from her thoughts and doubts; he helped strengthen her mask when she could feel it almost cracking.

Anders made an appearance then, he was smiling at her so casually it irked her a bit. It was as if she had asked him to go for a picnic with her and make castles of sand on the beach rather than storm into his clinic in the early hours of the morning. He seemed relaxed, as if there wasn't any spirit of justice in his head whispering of the injustices that mages had to suffer. She wrinkled her nose as the thought; _you're the perfect poster girl for his cause, Hawke. _

Anders grinned at the sight of her wrinkling her nose, "does my clinic smell too _Darktown_ to you, Hawke?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

"Does an apple smell too fruity to you, my dear mage?" she asked rhetorically, a coy grin on her face.

Anders reminded her of her father a little. It was the smell of lyrium and elfroot and whatever other manly smell mingled with it, it was comforting to say the least. Despite, this spirit that plagued the back of her mind whenever she spoke to him, she still found herself at ease with him. He was indeed a caring man, he must have been to do such a thing as open a clinic for the poor and the refugees with little coin asked.

"It depends, is it rotten or ripe?" Anders replied back, smirking at his own wit.

"It depends on nothing, whether it is a ripe apple or a rotten one, it will still smell like a fruit, regardless of what end of its life span it's at," she replied back, enjoying the mage's wit.

"Ah, but what if it's a toffee apple?" Anders asked her, winking at her.

"Then if you take the toffee off, you will find that is indeed still an apple, just masked," she said, chuckling at the random debate about an apple that had transpired.

"You're intelligent, sweetheart, I'll give you that," Anders laughed.

"Thank you, I'm here for the foreseeable future depending on if we actually make it back from the Deep Roads and I don't contract the taint and spend my days feasting on darkspawn and mumbling in a corner," she said, going into a mock curtsey.

"Yes, well when you lovebirds are done," Varric drawled, obviously bored by Hawke and Anders argument on fruit, "You were in a bad mood, remember? Wanted to go slit some slaver's throats?"

"I've not forgot, I'm just getting to that part!" Hawke exclaimed, making the dwarf grin wickedly at her.

"Well, I'm up now and at your service, my lady," Anders said, going into a mock bow which made Fenris snort.

Anders eyed the elf for a moment, obviously wanting to say something but thinking otherwise.

"Lead the way Hawke,"

The slavers were based in one of dankest corners of Darktown, it was obvious to Hawke that they had set up in one of the worst spots in Kirkwall to look for potential slaves. People lived in poverty here, even to the point where maybe slavery wasn't so bad to them, making them easy prey to the slavers that dwelled there with them.

The slavers were already awake and dealing with crates in a hurried manner. Hawke suspected that the antics of last night's foundry incident had something to do with it. Maybe they knew she was coming, she didn't really care.

She walked down the stairs nonchalantly her eyes pointed at the man who was ordering the others around, obviously their leader. He wore mage robes, and a strange looking hat which looked foreign, giving off the impression he was definitely from these parts. As she walked up to him she heard Fenris growl in an animalistic manner; she prayed he would keep calm until they had spoken to the slaver.

The slaver looked at her up and down with greed, he licked his lips at the sight of her walking towards him, and when she stopped he laughed to the other men around the den.

"Well look here lads, volunteers! Clap 'em in irons, and let's see how much the Tevinters will pay for them," he laughed, his eyes looking at her breasts rather than her face. She wanted to vomit all over the floor at just the voice of the perverse man. She turned to Fenris, whose normal mask of indifference and stoic manner had vanished just at the mention of the land where his former master hailed from; he was ready to kill.

"Well, that is no way to talk to a lady," Hawke tittered, and looked at Fenris. " I feel you'd have great satisfaction in making him talk," she said,, he replied with a savage grin.

"I can do that," Fenris muttered before walking over to the slaver, his brands lighting up enthusiastically.

He plunged his radiating hand into the slaver, a cruel smug of satisfaction whilst the slaver squirmed with whatever Fenris was doing to his internal organs. He let go of the man who fell to the ground immediately, his hand grasping his chest where Fenris had grabbed and his face in total shock.

"Andraste's great flaming arse, how did you do that?" the man asked, whimpering almost in pain.

"Now, now, you know a magician should never show his tricks! My friend is being made to be a slave and he can't really do that since he promised me he would join me for tea," Hawke chuckled, it gave her great pleasure that the man was now like a worm rather than a cocky viper that had spat his venom as soon as he'd clapped eyes on her, maybe she should buy the elf a drink as a thank you.

"I stashed him in a cave on the edge of the wounded coast, Tevinters will be by to finish the deal today, now please, Maker I beg you, let me go!" the man pleaded, standing himself up.

"Sure… wait, I mean no," Hawke said sweetly, readying her attack.

She unsheathed her daggers and went straight in for the kill; these were the kind of people she had no afterthoughts or guilt about. These were the people that stole others as if they were merely furniture without any severe consequence, as if their families would just buy another and replace them. She would slice their innards out without a moment's thought.

Fenris charged into the fray, trying to distract them by being nothing more than a blue blur., as Hawke threw a smoke bomb she distinctively heard Varric and Bianca playing their renowned song, shooting bolt after of bolt. Anders was behind her, concentrating seriously on keeping her alive. It seemed the mage felt bad for the flesh wound she acquired up Sundermount the other day, he was focussing most of his magic either on her or around her.

She stared at Fenris for a moment who was scything his enemies and bringing them down as if they were nothing more than plants. He flashed her a feral smile and they began to dance together, daggers and greatsword becoming deadly partners. She flipped over him and let her instincts take over, when he swiped his sword at the slavers she would duck and slice their legs, he grabbed the last one with a blue fist and with a loud crack he threw out the man's heart, not even thinking about it. The elf was wild; literally everything she heard and saw from Fenris seemed wild. He was more beast than man, and she admitted to herself whilst they fought that it scared her.

When the last one fell, Fenris seemed to reign in his fierceness, and looked at her with an almost impassive expression. It was as if he controlled himself in every aspect of his life apart from when he fought. When he took his sword in his hands and charged into the enemy with not a seconds thought that was when he let go, he was truly wild. And yet there seemed to be two sides to Fenris, the beast and the perfectly reserved man. Hawke wondered how long it would take the beast to take control, unless the man balanced them both out.

"Better get our arses wherever the kid is before they realise what's happened, Hawke," Varric said in thought as he viewed the corpses amongst them as if they were flowers.

"Indeed, we do my dear dwarf then I promise you I will let you sleep, maybe I could polish Bianca for you," she said, winking at the dwarf.

"No, Hawke, no matter how many times you ask," Varric said, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh but until you say yes, I'm not going to stop," Hawke chuckled, accepting the red vial from Anders as she looked down on her dearest friend.

"Hawke, have you ever thought you might be annoying me and hurting my feelings, I don't like people trying to touch Bianca," Varric said, unblinkingly and with a serious expression on his face.

Hawke paused for a moment, worried she might have actually hurt the dwarf's feelings. Varric looked up at her with a wicked grin and his eyebrows waggling.

"Just shitting you, Hawke," he said.

Hawke stomped her foot and cursed whilst she trudged up the dirty stairs…

The slaver caverns were a labyrinth full of ditches, traps and slavers. After battling their way through for a good part of an hour, Hawke could feel her exhaustion in her bones. Hell, she could feel it in every part of her body, she thought to herself as she walked through the green vines of plants that littered the place.

"You are tired, just as I predicted," Fenris' voice came from behind her and he walked with her at her pace.

"Have you not heard, I'm best when I get an adrenaline rush," Hawke replied, her eyes lingering on Fenris for a moment before following the narrow path ahead as they walked.

"You are very strange for what you are, Hawke," Fenris stated, it was almost as if he wanted her reasons and validation for why she was so strange.

"Well, that's my aim! Surprise everyone!" she exclaimed quieter than she normally would, not daring to be her dramatic sarcastic self when they were in the arms of the enemy.

Fenris said nothing to her dramatic exclamation, but merely looked at her with deep jade eyes, as if scrutinizing her. She felt that when this elf looked at her, he was casually dipping his hand into her soul, as if trying to grasp something.

Before she could comment about his constant scrutiny, they had found the central hub of the slavers. Amongst the army of slave traders were cages full of men and woman and the odd few children. Hawke felt the pang in her stomach as her and the group viewed them from the shadows. She saw Feynriel was being kept near the makeshift desk where the leader was stood, poring over some documents.

She knew that if they attacked straight on, the boy and the rest of the slaves would surely die. She weighed her options for a moment and then followed her gut instinct, whispering to Varric, "Time to use that sweet mouth of yours," as she beckoned the group to follow her out of the shadows.

The slavers turned around and eyed her immediately, drawing out their weapons in suspicion. She left her daggers sheathed and used her smile as her assault. The leader peered at her from the upper level, pointing a dagger to Feynriel's throat without any hesitation.

"Take one more step, and the boy dies," the ring leader sneered, his dagger become closer to Feynriel's throat as if to empathise his threat.

Hawke feigned a high and mighty demeanour, whilst turning to Varric who copied her expression.

"Tell this dirt bag who we are," she said, jerking her head towards the slaver in a pompous attitude. She swore she saw the dwarf lick his lips as though hungry to concoct a story, but if she did it was soon gone.

"Do you know who you're dealing with? If I were you, I wouldn't be making death threats to the Viscount's son." the dwarf lied, pointing his head towards the now shaking boy.

"What?" was all the slaver could muster, it seemed he believed Varric instantly, and a worried expression paled his face.

"Oh, I bet you just got a tip from your slaver buddy that he was selling mage flesh cheap, didn't bother to ask where it came from, did you?" Varric continued, and the more he seemed to speak the more the slaver became to believe his lies.

"You never wondered whether you were buying the Viscount's love child, born from his elven mistress? The boy he swore to protect even if it means raising the entire Free Marches!" Varric said, completely getting into story. _Maker, did she appreciate this lying dwarf right now!_

The leader was either an idiot, or Varric was an exceptional liar. Either way, Hawke didn't really care as long as they could get the boy out of this mess alive. The slaver looked at the boy for a moment, truly worried and peered over to them.

"I want no war with free marches, take the lad to his father," he said, dropping the dagger and letting Feynriel move away from his grasp.

"Thank you kind sir," Hawke said, curtseying. She turned to look at Fenris whose nostrils were flared so high that his nose was in the shape of the letter V. He obviously thought that they were going to leave this place and favour their own lives instead of the people trapped in the taverns waiting to be sold. She couldn't be bothered trying to explain to the elf through code, so she pretended to bend down to arrange her boots, and quickly grasped the throwing knife she always kept so dear to her, and the smoke bomb she had strapped to her thigh belt just in case the Templars ever tried to come and get her. She threw the steel knife straight into the back of the leader, who slumped down immediately after letting out a loud scream. Before the other slavers had time to react she launched the smoke bomb, being invisible was an advantage that Hawke had to use well.

As she darted in and out of the smoke, slicing slaver after slaver she could see Fenris amongst them, his skin blazing blue. Did the elf not realise that because they were so outnumbered they had to use some sort of stealth rather than running in literally blazing? The slavers were gathering around him like he was a beacon. Hawke ran towards them, taking as many as she could with her daggers twirling, trying to defend her comrade before he became another corpse on the ground. Fenris was like a wolf backed into a corner, howling and snapping the bones of any of the slavers that were brave enough to try and confront him.

Anders was in the background, she could hear the mumbling of incantations and see the blue light emanating from his staff, and she had to hazard a guess that Varric was nearby, since she could hear him barking out insults and chortling as if it were a game.

She chased the legs of the slavers stabbing them in the mask of the smoke; Hawke did not think she was good at many things, quite frankly she knew she was terrible at most. But there was a great sense of fulfilment in killing those who would wrong so many innocents.

When the smoke faded, she found her companions unharmed and standing amongst corpses once again; Varric had taken to looting them already, smoke obviously not deterring him from the task of finding something valuable. Anders strode towards her, concern in his face as he hopped over the dead bodies.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes swirling with concern and care.

"In all honesty, I'm exhausted. But at least it's over with now," Hawke said, running her hands through her soaked fringe, the sweat making it stick to her forehead.

"You work too hard," he said in a tender tone, touching her arm as an act of compassion. She looked into the healer's eyes and saw so many different emotions swirling in there it almost made her feel dizzy.

She shrugged his arm off, smiling at him. "So do you,"

The boy, Feynriel ran over to them when the smoke had completely cleared from where he was hiding.

"He had… had… a dagger to my throat! I mean thank you so much, but what would have happened if you were wrong?" the half elven boy said in a panic stricken tone.

"I'm barely ever wrong, am I Varric?" Hawke laughed, looking at Varric who replied with a wink.

"No, not most of the times, it's usually a Tuesday when you are, though," Varric joked back, at ease with the whole situation.

"It is Tuesday," Hawke chuckled, shaking her head at the banter her and the dwarf shared routinely.

The boy watched them in utter shock, he seemed confused as to why his saviours were so easily relaxed around a mountain of corpses, but nonetheless he seemed well despite the fact he had nearly become a slave.

"Who are you? Are you working for the Templars?" he asked, looking at them bitterly.

"Your mother sent me," Hawke replied, this time her voice sincere and not joking in anyway.

"Wow, that's hardly a difference," the boy snorted, looking at Hawke, "I can't believe my whole life it's been nothing but: I love you, you're my only family and then as soon as I have a few nightmares, she screams for the Templars!"

"I am here to help you, Feynriel," Hawke said, offering her aid before she had even thought about what the boy could ask of her.

"Why? You don't even know me!" the boy spat at her, obviously suspicious and angry with the card that life had dealt him.

"I have my own gifts, Feynriel," she said, looking at him with obvious eyes. The boy worked it out within two seconds, and obviously deemed that a good enough reason for he changed the subject after that.

"If I were a true elf, I'd be trained by the Dalish to be there new keeper by now, but no I'm going to get carted off to the Circle like I'm a bad secret,"

"Is that where you were intending to go, before you were captured?"

"I didn't care where I went, as long as it was far away from the blighted Templars," the boy groaned.

"I think we can understand that, Hawke," Anders pleaded, Hawke already knew the healer wanted to her let him run away from this dreadful city and for a moment she thought she would comply with his pleading tone, but then she remembered the nightmares and what they meant, it was obvious to any mage and most people, that a mage plagued by nightmares is being taunted by a demon in the Fade, trying to turn the pure mage black.

Varric and Fenris put no input into the conversation, she knew the dwarf wouldn't, whenever Anders had asked him about his view on the Templar vs Mage debate, the dwarf had merely laughed and said that it was a lot of humans in skirts. Fenris staying silent somewhat shocked Hawke, yet she had a feeling that if she chose to do something that would displease him he would become very vocal.

"Feynriel, if you went to the Dalish they would accept you but not with open arms, they would consider you a blemish on their kind for not being fully elf," Hawke said, watching the boy's reaction to what she had said.

He seemed calm about what she had said, as if he would rather be amongst them than stuck in the Gallows. The Dalish did not see magic as sinful as the Chantry; they were lenient in that way.

"I am as much Dalish as I am human, I'd rather be struck down by the Dalish than made Tranquil at the slightest nightmare. My mother said the Keeper could even take me on as her first, if I harnessed my magic," the boy said, obviously thinking it through for a few moments.

"Well, if you believe it would be a good idea, then I agree with your decision, you must control these nightmares. If you cannot, and you feel yourself slipping then you must take the required action," she said seriously, her tone no longer light as she viewed the boy as a potential abomination. But she knew that the elves would take him down with not even a blink of their cold eyes.

She heard Fenris snort behind her, and rolled her eyes. She had a feeling when the boy left that she would have to deal with either a few foreign curses, or a full blown rant. From the first day she had met the elf he had done nothing but spout about how mages were vipers, and that they were evil. She looked at his scowl from the corner of her eye.

_Well, at least he must like me enough to not give me a lovely pet name like he has with Anders and Merril. _

"Keeper helps him with his magic, no one gets locked up sounds like a good plan to me Aria," Anders said, ignoring Fenris' snort. She almost flinched at someone other than her family using her first name, but resisted it by concentrating on the boy that was debating about his fate.

"Thank you! In my wildest dreams I could not have foreseen your kindness!" the boy stammered, looking at Hawke as if she was his saviour.

"Well, get a move on before more of your delightful friends make an appearance," Hawke said, nodding at the exit.

As if not to be told twice, the boy moved quickly but before he made his way to the exit he thrusted himself upon Hawke, and hugged her tightly. She stood awkwardly whilst the boy embraced her, and was still a bit dazed after the boy had left.

She turned to see Varric giving her a wicked grin, as if knowing how uncomfortable the boy's forwards embrace had been. She gave him a stern glare, but it didn't deter the dwarf. Instead, she opted to go down the childish route, and just stick her tongue out at him in defeat.

"The Circle is necessary, you said," Fenris drawled, looking at her.

"I said sometimes," she replied coolly.

"That boy has all of the symptoms of becoming an abomination and you let him walk into the world," Fenris argued, his voice becoming strained as if he was trying to control himself.

"No, the dreams meant that he must have been resisting the demons well, plus the Keeper can sense when someone's willpower is beginning to wane and she will destroy whatever threatens her clan," Hawke replied, deflecting his argument with her reasons. She had quite a knack for debates, yet she tried to never raise her voice, unless it was an argument that was full of curses. _Nothing was good without a good curse._

Fenris looked as if he was about to say something, then faltered. She watched as he tried to find a way to argue back to her statement. It seemed he couldn't argue back, for he just merely mashed his lips together and nodded at her.

She felt smug that she had made the elf back down; it seemed something that not many people had the power to do. A lump rose to her throat as she thought that maybe her and his former master had something in common.

She turned her smug smile upon Varric, who yawned as if he was about to fall asleep in the slaver carven, Anders looked no different than his usual self, but she wondered if that was because he was always so exhausted; the healer opened his clinic for most of the day, and his spare time he hunted herbs and other regents to aid his clinic, and if it wasn't that it was trying to strike up a mage rebellion from the inside. Fenris, however, did not look remotely tired. It was as if the elf did not need sleep, or had been accustomed to not much sleep, unlike Varric and Anders he had no slump to his shoulders, and he was stood tall and stoic as always.

"If anybody needs me, leave a message with Norah at the bar and I'll most likely get out of hibernation next year," Varric said, stifling a yawn.

"I think I'll join with that," Hawke said, realising how exhausted she was.

"Hawke, how many times do I have to tell you? No threesomes, Maker, you're starting to sound like Isabela!" Varric exclaimed, putting his hand up as if to shoo her away like he did Isabela when she attempted to get her hands on his hairy chest.

"Oh up yours, bastard dwarf."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter sixteen- Another nightmare**

**This is done in first person thought I'd attempt to give it ago. There is no rape in this scene, although there is some torture. As we go along with these chapters, we get to see an explanation for why Hawke is like she is. This is quite key to the story, but if you don't want to read it later on there will be a vague explanation for whatever happened. **

**Thank you for reviews + follows + favourites. **

**My beta is amazing. :P Enchantm3nt. :3**

_I'm lying on the floor again and for the first time in four days I've been left alone. There is no Templar touching me with perverse hands, there is no mage to heal the rips and the wounds bestowed on me. I am alone on the floor. I am no longer covered in layers of my own blood and vomit; someone has taken to cleaning me. I don't question it as much as I should, maybe I'm waiting for death. _

_No one tells me anything, no one gives me a hint as to why they decided to pick a young apostate up and let the Templars vent their frustrations on her, and as the hours tick by I seem to care less for their reasoning. I hope they burn in hell with our fearful Maker, the one who decided to make my fate. _

_It's not been four days; it's been ninety seven hours and forty five minutes since I saw my family. Since I was walking amongst the woods, sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I had left a year ago with the Dalish. If I had been with Tamlen maybe I would have never been brought into harm's way. I attempt to frown at the thought, but the muscles on my face and still aching, and it turns into more of a half bothered grimace. If I'd have left, this could have been Bethany; she could be the one lying on the floor naked with no dignity left whatsoever. I have been used, I have been broken, but at least it was me and not my little sister. _

_It's a bitter pill, but I'll take it nonetheless, that my still being here may have saved her. The silence is welcoming, just like death. I want the silence to kill me, before their torment begins. I am used, like a sex toy, an object not a person. And yet they want to see the objects reaction, I've noticed that they like it more when I'm in pain, so I've been practising my self-control. I let them do what they want to my body, but my mind closes itself off. More and more each day, whenever they try to break me it makes me stronger. _

_There are footsteps now, and I'm scared. I'm terrified. I know it's going to start again, they said it would stop soon. They lied. Their leaders are not coming, and by the time they do, I will be dead. The whispers come with the footsteps; they know how much the footsteps scare me. _

_The door opens, and I brace myself. I am ready for the next onslaught, but I fear that I will succumb. The demons beckon me, they seethe and slither in my head, pleading and offering themselves to me like whores. I know they want my body and my soul, and if it comes to that maybe I would accept it. For now, I am holding on. _

_The footsteps get louder and come to a halt. There are about four pairs of eyes on me, but I daren't look up, for when I look into the men's eyes, they get angry. It is my eyes that reflect the savage brutality that they are committing. None of them can look in my eyes, apart from the one they called Derek, his voice makes me nauseated. _

"_Are you well, child?" a man's voice says to me. It is cold and bitter, hot and sweet. It is misleading, and tricky. This man's voice is something I know I will never forget that is to say if I do not die here first. _

_I cannot answer his question, more simply that I daren't. I'm too scared and my fear is overpowering. _

"_I said, are you well child?" the voice says, commanding me to open my eyes and look upon him. He is an old man, donning a casual set of armour unlike the heavy chainmail of the Templars. Yet, he still bares their insignia; it is splattered on his chest plate as if he is bold propaganda. _

_I try to nod, but my skull just vibrates. I hope this man gives me the kindness of a clean death. I don't want my throat slit whilst his comrades rape and destroy what's left of my body. I am merely nothing but a sack of flesh; I've come to terms with it. My mind will drift away in time. _

"_Someone get the child some clothes," the man says, and someone quickly walks away. He grabs my arm and sits me up right. His eyes are a steel grey; they are cold and warm at the same time. I cannot think what to make of this man, he is misleading. _

_He looks down at the chains that bind me, and puts himself to work undoing them, I secretly thank him; it feels like they have been on my body so long that they have become part of my skin. I wonder what he wants with me, I pray it's not the same as the other men, I am spent. I am done. I just want to die. I just want it all to end, the whispers, the defiling of my body; I want to wake up and for it all to be a terrible nightmare. Could I be in the Fade? Could this be a test? Could I just wake up tomorrow and see my father busying himself with the breakfast with mother, humming to her morning tune?_

"_Can you dress yourself, child?" he asks, his skin is old and lined and he looks at me with the same concern a parent would over their infant. _

"_Yes," I breathe, and it feels almost worrying to speak. It is as if I lost the right to speak days ago, and that by replying to this man I am breaking a thousand laws. _

_There are others in the room, I sweep my gaze amongst them and see a woman donning a staff, her face is pointed and her eyes are small like slits, she looks almost like a cat. There is dwarf also accompanying them, his beard is jet black much like his hair and his eyes are an ice blue that pierce whatever soul I have left. _

_The other person I heard before comes in and I almost vomit in shock, I curl myself up as the Templar that touched me the first night walks in, his oily hair slicked back and his face almost amused as the sight of him makes me curl up in a ball and give up, just let the demons come to me and die inside and out. _

_The older man in the lighter armour notices my fear, and grabs the clothes that the other man has brought aggressively, turning his back on me as he looks at his companion. _

"_You knew your orders and so did Alrik, you were not to touch this girl," he says, almost in a calm manner which sets my fear off again, pain and fear seemed to be the only things that keep me company anymore. _

"_She bit one of my men, so she was taught a lesson," the man replies, his sickly voice entering my very core. I could feel the vomit churning in my stomach; I had eaten nothing but bread and bowl of water for the past four days. They would laugh as I lapped the water from the bowl; it amused them to see their whore drink like a bitch. _

"_And you disobeyed your orders, Eric. So by your own logic, you too should be taught a lesson," the man counters, nodding to the mage with the pointed features. The mage's face becomes almost overwhelmed with joy at whatever the nod means. _

_She turns to the Templar, and with at flick of her hand he is on the floor writhing and jerking in agony. Her hand emits a bright red hue, and I could tell from the instance it was blood magic. _

_He screams out in pain, and it makes me glad. He deserves his fate, he asked for it. I cannot save him and will not save him in my current state. His screams become louder and the woman revels in his pain, as if she has become lost in his screams. He begins to beg for it to stop, spitting blood from his mouth. It just makes her work harder, the red glow almost lighting the entire room, and her face becomes more feral. He is close to death; I almost hear his heart giving up. _

"_Stop, Olivia," the man requests, and the Templar that I now knew to be called Eric pants heavily, the red light dimming at the command of the man's voice. He does not seem remotely concerned that the other man is on the floor close to death, he merely waves his hand as if mentally asking someone to get rid of him. _

_The dwarf helps the rapist up as best as he can, and Eric holds onto the wall for support. Two other Templars that had defiled me also for the past few days come in, and pick him up to leave, but before they can the man warns them "This is what happens when you do not listen to your orders," _

_He turns back to me then, staring into my eyes. He has a scar on his face; I can see it well now the door had been fully opened to get the injured Templar out. It runs down from his eyebrow to his upper lip. Whatever had happened to him had severely left its mark on him. _

_He passes me the clothes and I shakily put the trousers and the top on, it takes me several attempts, yet he waits patiently. He stares at me as if admiring me. I know this man is not going to rape me, but I feel something else is going to happen, I feel it in bones. _

"_What is your name, child?" he asks his eyes scanning every detail of my face. _

"_A-aria," I stutter. _

"_You are a very pretty girl, Aria," he says, tasting my name. _

_I say nothing, I don't know what to say. I don't want to react, the last time I reacted or tried to fight I was punished. _

"_I have a good feeling about you, child," he mutters more to himself than me. _

_He strokes my cheek in an endearing sort of way, the way Mother used to do with me when I was a young child. I don't understand. My body aches whilst my stomach begs for food. _

_He smiles at me as if I am sacred treasure. His smile haunts me and I know that if I ever make it out of here, it will be with me until I die. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter seventeen- Aveline **

**So, seventeen chapters! Never thought I'd get this far!**

**Debating whether to add Sebastian to the fic… I think I will, he's so shiny and pretty. :}**

**Even though I have a hectic work/personal schedule, I've been making sure I have time to write! Mainly because I love writing this and I have a lovely beta who doesn't laugh at all my terrible spelling mistakes and everything else! Enchanm3nt, I know I say thank you at every chapter but thank you for not complaining about how much I overwork you!**

**As always, Bioware ownownown the characters etc, I just mess about with them and make my own stuff up about them.**

**Thank you for your reviews, and follows. :}**

One year. The anniversary of her joining the guard. She could hardly believe it herself but there it was. So much had happened in just over a year. The Blight. The betrayal at Ostagar. Wesley's death… her meeting Hawke. Getting to Kirkwall. Working in Kirkwall. In the army things were always so… stable, even in war, she fought, and she kept on fighting, that is what she was best at. To have so much change in such a short space of time was strange to her. But she liked the guard. Liked the routine. That didn't mean she didn't still enjoy Hawke's company, though, she had a knack for finding trouble and excitement, of which the guard seriously lacked most days. Not that she wanted anything bad to happen just to give her something to do… but sitting on her hands all day was so dull. At least now that she was going to be Captain she could do some good, make changes…

It did mean she would likely have less chance to spend time with Hawke, however. She watched the secret mage from where she sat in the Hanged Man, watching her with a slightly sad expression. She would miss this, just being able to relax with a drink in the evenings, she had no doubts that most of her evenings onwards would be filled with paper work.

She considered Hawke a good friend, perhaps her best friend, seeing as she had so few. She would never forget the day that she met Hawke, outside the burning remains of Lothering with the darkspawn all around them. It look almost comical how the Hawkes had come running down the hill: the apostate, the rogue and the warrior, their mother and a massive hound, all charging into the fray to save the soldier and the Templar. Aveline had known right away that Hawke would not be someone she wanted to cross swords with, and so she had backed down, had managed to make her husband back down after he accused her of also being an apostate as well as Bethany; Hawke had admitted it, casual as you like, such fierce determination in her eyes, an emotion Aveline knew well, for it had been one she had worn for years too.

In the short hours after their meeting, Aveline had been surprised by Hawke, mostly because she had her sister to compare her to. Hawke didn't use magic, Bethany did, and quite effectively too. Hawke wore armour, Bethany robes. Hawke used two daggers, Bethany a staff. One sister had almost white hair, the other coal black. Opposites in almost every way, except they had the same noses, if it weren't for that, you'd never would have believed them to be sisters.

Watching the younger sister die had been… heart-wrenching. No mother should have to watch her child die, worse still, they had not been able to give the girl or Wesley any kind of pyre with the horde closing in on them. Aveline had watched the mother Hawke crying over her child, begging for her to come back to her, telling her living children it was their fault she was gone. Hawke had stepped in front of her brother, taking the brunt of the blame, and Aveline had been too distracted by it all to even realise her own husband was dying until he collapsed to the ground. She knew she wouldn't have been able to save him even if she _had_ noticed sooner, but it still stung that she had denied how bad things were. There had only been the next kill, the next step, the next breath as they fled, but time had stopped up on the ridge with the entire horde spread out beyond them as their loved ones died around them.

But it was those losses that had tied them together, brought them to Kirkwall. They were stronger having endured all of that, they were closer for it.

She could never repay Hawke for saving her life; if it wasn't for meeting her Aveline was sure that she would have perished alongside her husband that day. She idly stroked the shield resting against her chair, Wesley's shield. She had kept it all this time, she still wore it, used it every day; he was still with her in a way, still protecting her.

"Aveline, you're going to be nicknamed Broody Two if you continue staring at the table like that," Hawke said, pulling her out of her thoughtful reverie.

Looking around the table at all of the people Hawke had somehow managed to corral into following her, Aveline was a little dumbfounded. She was only beginning to understand how hard it was to be in charge of a large group of people; a quick glance at the bar had her staring at her guards, staying well away from their new captain. She wasn't sure how Hawke managed to lead and befriend such a varied, averse group. The troubled apostate and the naïve one, the ex-slave with a very large chip on his shoulder, the younger Hawke standing in the shadows and then blaming his sister for blocking out the sun, the dwarf who could bullshit anyone into believing he was actually an elf, and the pirate whore who'd fuck anything that so much as smiled at her. Of course Aveline knew Hawke well enough, but even that was probably not as well as she thought, the secret mages with a dozen more secrets locked away in her heart, one day those secrets would all come spilling out, and Aveline would be there to pick up the pieces for her friend.

"I am just thinking, Hawke, it is what we grown up people like to do from time to time, maybe you should try it," she said with a mock-tut, causing Hawke to smirk and then stick her tongue out.

Aveline naturally mothered Hawke; she was like the little sister she would have loved to have. Aveline was born to look after people; it was something that had been dug deep in her nature from long since she could remember.

Because of this, Aveline had been keeping a close eye on the men in Hawke's life, and the interest they seemed to be showing in Hawke. Although, it probably wasn't necessary; Hawke wasn't as oblivious as she appeared to be, she seemed to be trying to ignore Anders' advances in hopes that he'd take a hint and stop. It was the elf Aveline was more concerned about, already he seemed to be giving the ex-Warden murderous looks whenever the blond mage flirted with Hawke; it was a possessive, angry glare, one Aveline had been surprised to see on the elf's face. If it was out of simple disgust, or something more akin to jealousy, she could not say.

"Why think when you can drink, man hands?" the whore purred, pushing her breasts up as she usually did. Whenever the Rivaini woman would do that men's eyes would widen as they ogled at her. One time, Aveline had caught Anders staring and had smacked him around the head, much to the amusement of the others. Fenris' ears often turned a little pink as he tried to act like he wasn't looking, and Hawke… Hawke just laughed at the pirate's behaviour, laughing things off had always been her way of dealing with things that made her slightly uncomfortable.

Aveline didn't trust the slattern as far as she could throw her, not that she would ever try to throw the pirate; she didn't want to accidentally touch something unsavoury. She did not trust the whore, she was too hedonistic, too selfish, the complete opposite to Aveline. There had been moments where Isabela had surprised the pirate, like her freeing slaves, but for the most part the slattern was far too self-absorbed for Aveline to ever really have a care for her.

Guardsmen Donnic joined his fellows at the bar, chugging back a flagon before ordering another. She rather liked Donnic; he was a good guard, a good man. He was calm and kind… he was easy on the eyes too. But she was his Captain now, and even if she had only been a guard still, fraternization was frowned upon, or perhaps she had just told herself that so she didn't have to entertain such ideas. Wesley weighed too heavily on her mind for her to even consider another man, still, her stare lingered on him longer than a Captain or a colleague should look for, and she found her cheeks flushing a little as he let out that booming laugh of his.

It was something Hawke and her had it common, not getting romantically involved with anyone since arriving in Kirkwall. They worked hard, a rare thing for woman in this city to do. Brennan was the only other woman in the guard, something Aveline was eager to change. Even back in the army in Ferelden, when soldiers were called to stop the Blight, there had been few women.

But on a few occasions Aveline had caught Hawke watching the ex-slave, not as much as Anders, mind, but enough times that Aveline had now taken to watching Hawke and Fenris a little more closely. The night Hawke had played the lute for them, she had rushed out of the Hanged Man after Fenris, and when she came back in her cheeks were rosy but she carried on as if nothing had happened. Aveline had wanted to know what had made Hawke blush so, but of course, with Hawke being Hawke she hadn't given a thing away. It was the one thing that Aveline found aggravating about Hawke; sometimes it could take hours to get just a tiny morsel of information out of her. She certainly didn't open up easily, and it gave her an air of mystery about her that the men in the group seemed to find very attractive, as opposed to the pirate's 'heart on her sleeve' personality.

"Oh shut it slattern," Aveline snapped at the pirate whore, who had interrupted her thoughts.

"I knew you loved me, I knew it," Isabela chuckled, her intentions to antagonise Aveline quite clear. Hawke rolled her eyes at the banter, smiling slightly.

"Now, now ladies, can we not just enjoy a good night of drinking and enjoying ourselves?" Hawke shouted to them both, making some of the locals jeer with agreement.

"As you say, Hawke," Aveline nodded her head and smiled at her oldest friend.

She respected Hawke more so than most, not because Hawke was an upstanding citizen, oh far from it, but that she was working her way from the bottom just as she was, and Aveline had a feeling Hawke would make it to the top. She had a determination that radiated off of her body, spreading to her companions and making them feel it too. She was deadly and beautiful, yet she took no notice when it came to her looks, unlike Isabela who used them as a bargaining chip.

She averted her attention to Varric, who was busy explaining the game of Wicked Grace to Fenris and Merrill, Anders who was also sat with them was listening to the dwarf educate the two elves on the game, a smirk of amusement on his face. Aveline could sense that Anders was once the light of the party, but since the man had merged with a spirit unbeknownst to this world, even his smiles seemed like shadows. She didn't like how the mage looked at her friend, how she saw something more than lust in his eyes. It was as if she could almost see the spirit that he harboured looking at Hawke in a similar manner. Both Anders and Justice were curious about Hawke, she didn't know why or for what purpose but she would be keeping an eye on the mage nonetheless.

_Maybe a job for the newest recruits?_

Aveline was never far from work mentally, physically she was here in the tavern sipping ale and listening to Varric whilst he tried to get the elves to play his game that he often cheated at. But mentally she was sat at her office scanning through papers, even now when she was chuckling at Hawke and Isabela's banter and some of the songs the drunkards had started singing she was thinking about patrol rosters and strategy briefings and…

_And Donnic's luscious locks of hair and white toothed smile…_

"You know Glowy, if you stare anymore at Hawke's head, her brains might explode," Isabela drawled to Fenris, snapping Aveline out of her thoughts, thankful to the slattern that she had saved her from her inappropriate daydream.

Isabela was grinning at Fenris, choosing to mention it as Hawke had gone to order them more drinks.

"I was thinking and she came into my view," Fenris almost growled, looking extremely uncomfortable.

The conversation had grabbed the curiosity of the entire table with everyone looking between the pirate and Fenris, waiting for whatever it was to happen. The elf's agitation made Aveline cock her head slightly; she appeared to be right about him being more than a little curious about Hawke. "Oh really, and does she do this often? I'll have to tell her that she is hovering in the periphery of your broodiness," Isabela laughed, her eyebrow raised.

Fenris merely snorted into his tankard, though Aveline could see a slight pink tinge to the elf's ears. She smiled as she pulled on the last of her ale, of course the elf found Hawke attractive. However much they were the same, Hawke did not hide herself in heavy chainmail like Aveline did. Hawke wore small leather armour to help her hide in the dark, and the more and more she rejected men or and the more she closed herself away from them, the more the men seemed to become more curious. She didn't know whether Hawke did it intentionally, she didn't really care as long as Hawke was somewhat happy and didn't decide to take a leaf out of the whore's book.

Aveline turned to look where Carver was stood, chatting animatedly to one of the serving girls who was twisting her hair through her fingers and laughing at most things he was saying to her. _Maker, it must be a Hawke thing._ Aveline shook her head, disagreeing with her thoughts as she watched the youngest Hawke sibling glancing over to look at the small Dalish woman who sat by Varric.

Carver had lost his twin, that day they had met. And yet he did not seem as hardened by it like the eldest Hawke had been. He seemed almost free, and yet Aveline knew what it was like to hide her feelings from the world and put on a brave face every day. Maybe Carver didn't show how much the past had bled him out because he knew the world would spit him out whole if he crumbled. She knew Hawke would soon crumble without her brother; they had a mutual partnership where they would watch each other's backs, they knew each other without talking. Aveline craved that sort of relationship; she felt alone.

Hawke came back in, smiling, oblivious to what had just happened. Fenris was staring down into his tankard, a slight blush to his cheeks, whilst Anders shot glares at him, in what Aveline assumed was an attempt to ward the elf off of Hawke, considering Hawke didn't belong to Anders, or anyone, for that matter, it was an amusing sight.

"So, what did I miss?" she asked the group, but her eyes wavered towards Varric, the one who would tell her everything without a moment's hesitation.

"Isabela trying to goad broody to the point where he agrees to have sex with her, the same that's been happening the past week or so really," Varric said, shuffling the cards in his hands nonchalantly.

"Oh Izzy, I respect your determination," Hawke laughed, placing the tray down and grabbing a drink. Aveline knew how much Hawke liked a drink; the alcohol suddenly made her less caged and more herself without the doubts and the bravado.

Isabela did a mock salute and grabbed one of the tankards downing it in one. Hawke raised an eyebrow but didn't question the pirate's behaviour; instead she turned to Aveline with a smile on her lips. "So, not going to go to your new friends for a few drinks?" she asked, nudging her head towards the off duty guards.

"No, I see them enough as it is. I never see you these days," Aveline said, although she looked at the group of laughing guards wistfully.

"Yes well, I hope that doesn't become a constant thing, me and Varric are getting bored now there's no one telling us off or even acknowledging our diabolical plans!" Hawke exclaimed, throwing a wink at the dwarf whilst the rest of the group watched her in amusement. Hawke was born to be a leader; people listened to her effortlessly like her voice was a beacon. Men and women answered to Aveline of course, but that was because of her aggressive bark as she spoke to them, Aveline was a woman of authority and Hawke was a woman of mystery; two sides of a coin.

"As long as you two don't intend on getting Corf drunk enough to sign over the ownership of the Hanged Man to Varric, I think you'll be just fine without me," she said almost sternly, her eyes darting from Hawke to Varric accusingly.

"My dear Captain, how could you expect such debauchery from me and our lady Hawke?" Varric asked sincerely, Aveline knew by now whenever Varric was being sincere he was talking utter bullshit most of the time.

She snorted at the dwarf, her eyebrow raised and a strict smile ruled on her lips.

"How could I not?" she said, making Hawke laughed deeply.

She enjoyed Hawke's laugh, it was a rare thing to hear her real one. It was true, Hawke was a female who acted impish and light hearted in front of the group, she would chuckle and laugh at most things, but most of the time it wasn't her real laugh. Her real laugh reminded Aveline of chestnut trees and barley wheat on Ferelden's farm land, it was warm like soil on a summer's day.

"But Hawke doesn't really do that much bad compared to the good things she does, you know Aveline," Merril, the Dalish elf simmered into the conversation, the elf was deaf to sarcasm and most jokes and had once again got the wrong end of the stick. Aveline found her somewhat endearing at first, but it seemed Merril and Isabela had something in common. They were both okay in small doses, Isabela's vulgarity and Merrill's ignorance combined was a one-way ticket for a migraine. And yet Hawke could speak to them both for long lengths of time, she would drink with the whore and share stories with the elf and never give off the impression she was sick of them.

"I never said that she did a lot of bad Merrill, I just merely insinuated that her and Varric plotting together could be deadly, or worse," Aveline replied, kindly trying to dumb down her words for the small elf woman.

"Now what could be worse than those two together? With the dwarf's mouth and sister's daggers I'm sure they'd be ruling all of Thedas now, making their commandments and mocking the Maker as they go," Carver said, as he took a seat at the table, a bemused smile playing on his lips. He had obviously been listening to Merrill and instead of finding her tedious like Aveline, the young Hawke must have found the Dalish woman to be another type of endearing; it reminded Aveline of Wesley when he had tried to court her all those years ago.

"Oh dearest brother, I would make sure all my family would live amongst us in our palace," Hawke said, stroking her brother's hair as she stood behind him. Carver was the only one that got any of Hawke's affection it seemed apart from Aveline on the odd occasion. It was as if Hawke was scared that if she was touched or touched one of them she would implode. Aveline could understand her obvious distaste to touching some of the members of their party, she looked at Isabela for a moment as if the thought had brought her gaze there, but she didn't understand why Hawke took it so offensively. When she had questioned Carver, he explained to her about the night she was taken, and how she had returned a week later with nothing on her body apart from her skin, blood and dirt.

Of course, Hawke refused to speak about it, in fact it was one of the rare times that Hawke had gotten into such a frenzy that she was tempted to use magic. When Aveline asked her about what happened she flew into a temper, cursing her brother and glaring at the floor as if trying to singe the wooden floorboards of the ship. Aveline knew from then onwards never to mention it ever again. Truth be told, Hawke scared her that day she had never seen someone look so animalistic as she charged towards her brother and hit him squarely in the jaw. Carver never spoke of anything about his sister's past from that day on also.

Carver looked at her sister with a sceptical smirk on his face as he replied to her, "Well, I could live with that, feel free to do what you wish sister although you always do."

She took her seat next to Aveline, she had obviously understood whatever meaning was to her brother's words and in hushed tones she spoke with her brother, the group going back to their conversations knowing Hawke was done having her moment in the spotlight.

"You know I didn't plan for them to come along," she said quietly, looking at her brother apologetically.

"It was my idea and Varric's, I just actually fell asleep instead of pretending," Carver groaned, looking at his sister as if he had done something terribly wrong. Aveline couldn't understand much of the conversation but she knew Hawke well enough to know by now she had obviously got an idea in her head and they had tried to stop her and failed, so decided to accompany her. It was something that had become the norm for Hawke and Aveline didn't understand why they wasted their breath trying to sway Hawke's stubborn mind. Aveline had given up long ago trying to make Hawke do what they wanted her to, she just accepted what Hawke wanted to do and defended her in battle, her shield stopping the enemies swords even get near Hawke.

"Well you must have needed the sleep brother, the matter is dealt with now," Hawke said, sipping ale from her tankard as if was a cup of tea.

"Did you receive a payment?" Carver asked, but his tone stated he already knew the answer.

"No, but I did it more out of empathy than gold, although the boy's mother did give me a Dalish trinket, that may be some worth," Hawke said, her eyes looking round the tavern as if sensing trouble.

"Could I have it instead, I know Merrill's feeling homesick and-" Carver started to plead, but Hawke raised her hand in understanding.

"Consider it yours, I hope she likes it," Hawke said, a loving smile on her lips.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aveline saw a boy enter the tavern. Her guard senses told her that this boy meant no harm, but if she were to see the rapscallion take a sip of alcohol he would be feeling the end of the guard captain's boot as he exited the Hanged Man faster than a whore in the Chantry. The boy had the sash of a courier, which was a job well beyond the boy's age but nevertheless Aveline did not question it; child labour was as common as air in the south and a lot harsher than Ferelden.

The boy walked up to the table and stood looking at Hawke for a moment with eyes as big as sovereigns, he then cautiously walked up to her as if she was slumbering bear and with a small voice mumbled, "Are you the Hawk?"

Hawke looked at the boy with a small grin, trying to make the boy feel at ease. Aveline noticed how Anders had stopped doing whatever he was doing and was watching Hawke as if she was Andraste herself, Fenris had also taken to watching Hawke out of the corner of his eye, not scowling for once but trying to be subtle that he was watching her speak with the child.

"I am," she said, making the boys already big eyes go wider.

"I have a message for you, Serah," he said fumbling with the velum and passing it her quickly out of nervousness.

"Thank you, now what is your name?" she asked the boy, who was frozen to the spot as if he was scared or worried that Hawke may get angry with him in some way. Aveline found a lump at her throat at the sight of the poor child; Kirkwall was a shit hole, one she would clean up if it killed her.

"C-Callum Serah," he stuttered, still glued to the spot.

"Well, Callum, do you like chocolate?" she asked, a grin playing on her lips that was renowned for being infectious, and as Aveline looked back she saw a small smile accompanying the boys red cheeks.

"I don't know Serah, we have never been able to afford it, Mama says it's a waste of money," he said, looking confused as to why she would ask him such a question. Hawke went into her pockets and took out a small pouch, fishing out a small cube of chocolate. Hawke was also renowned for her love of chocolate; everyone knew her love for it.

She passed it to the boy who took it in his hands with wide eyes, and looked at her as if she had given him the deed to Viscounts keep. Hawke motioned her head as if to say well go on then and the boy took a small nibble, after a few seconds of tasting it he flashed a wide smile at Hawke who smiled back in kind. Aveline was so used to viewing Hawke on the battlefield; she forgot that when it came to children on animals Hawke had a sweet nature, completely different to the hard faced killer that hid in the shadows of the city.

"Good?" Hawke asked.

"It's amazing, thank you Serah! I'm going to save the rest for my ma and my sister! Thank you!" he said, rushing out to hug her. Hawke automatically froze, her eyes wide at the surprise touch and then she smiled, patting the boys back for a moment.

She passed him the pouch when he released her and said kindly, "Eat that piece for yourself, and take the other two for your sister and mother, tell them it was because you did a good job today," she said, and the boy blushed a bright red at her compliment.

He bowed down at her as if she was his queen and scampered out of the tavern, obviously running off home to share his treat with his family. Aveline smiled at Hawke widely, making her roll her eyes.

"What?" she asked, her eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Nothing, I just forget that you're rumoured to be one of the deadliest people in the city but you also give candy out to children," Aveline said, smiling at her friend as she huffed and took another sip out of her ale.

"Sister, that was your only chocolate for the month," Carver added, the rest of the group listening to Hawke and her brother once again.

"Yes, yes Hawke's adorable, so adorable I don't know whether to have sex with her or vomit all over," Isabela drawled, grabbing another mug of ale from the middle of the table.

"Hawke, you're perfect story material; stick with me kid, and I'll make you a star!" Varric said, his eyes twinkling. Aveline knew that he would be adding that moment into his novel, everything Hawke did or spoke about the dwarf scribbled into his story. When they had first met, he had tried to bribe Aveline into telling him some of background history, which she answered back with a swift kick up the dwarf's arse.

Hawke just rolled her eyes again and opened the velum, reading the message casually, not noticing the glare that Fenris was giving her just for merely reading a piece of paper. Aveline wished she knew what the elf's issue was, it wasn't as if Hawke was a staff carrying all magic halleluiah kind of mage, and Hawke would never let herself become as twisted as the magisters. Anders maybe, but never Hawke.

"We're going to be busy tomorrow it seems. I give it a couple of weeks until we've got the money, you know. Varric, how's your brother faring?" she said, looking at the letter again as if evaluating every word.

"He's just waiting for a moneybags investor to come along, and in a few weeks my lady Hawke, that will be you," Varric replied, winking at her. Aveline thought that it must have been one of the dwarf's ticks, aside from telling stories all Varric seemed to do was wink or tell coy jokes.

"Indeed, hopefully this expedition will be fruitful enough that I can have a house made out of chocolate, "Hawke said dreamily, looking up as if imagining it.

The group laughed at Hawke's daydream, clinking their mugs together, apart from Fenris. Fenris sat brooding in his corner, sometimes looking at Hawke and sometimes the table. Aveline made a mental note to ask Fenris what his problem was and took a pull of ale, looking wistfully at Donnic from the corner of her eye.

Hawke looked at her for a moment, whilst everyone else was drawn into debauchery of alcohol and clinking glasses and flashed Aveline a sad smile.

"Happy anniversary," she whispered before turning back to the group with a pretend smile plastered onto her face.

***Author's note- So I am going to be posting next week, even though I will most likely be working/sleeping/inquisition because my delightful beta has done some of the back log of my work. Seriously, she's amazing. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen- The prince of Starkhaven. **

"_**Maker preserve their stupid, stupid souls."**_

**Cannot honestly believe I've gotten this far but just thought I'd warn you guys I've been sorting moving into a bigger house. But don't worry, I've wrote in advance so hopefully my dear beta will aid me in keeping you guys updated. (I know she will, and I love her for it.)**

**Much love, to my beta Enchantm3nt, for her amazing help and sending me subways via the internet. You are a talented beta! :3**

**This is mainly for the guys who haven't got the game yet! Hope you enjoy it, I know everyone else will be too busy!**

**Thank you so much for my reviews, follows and favourites! :3**

_Blessed are they who stand before_  
_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,_  
_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just,_

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow, _  
_In their blood the __Maker_'s will is written.

Prayer always had a way of calming him, of giving him clarity and peace of mind. It may have taken him many years to find that peace, and indeed to find the Maker at all, but now that he had he had never felt more content, that was, until his family had been murdered. Now prayer only gave him a momentary reprieve from his need for answers, for justice. He shifted slightly from his crouched position at the foot of the holy statue of Andraste and was about to return to his prayers when he heard the familiar clack of leather boots walking past him. He turned, and glanced at the owner of said boots, she was a small woman, her white hair tied high on her head in a messy bun. She always came to the Chantry to see the orphans, carrying that lute of hers and a small brown sack. But whenever he had tried to speak with her she had always vanished from sight, disappearing into the shadows. She was a mystery to him.

And yet he had heard the children whispering her name, gossiping quietly about her, wondering when her next visit would be. Little Alexander had even told Sebastian that she often brought them chocolate, but when questioned further they had all kept their chocolate smeared mouths shut, scared that their hawk would stop visiting them. That did not stop him from speaking with the Grand Cleric about her often, though.

The Grand Cleric had approached him some time back, when he had first seen the mysterious woman, giving him a knowing smile in return. "She is not quite the monster the locals make her out to be, is she Sebastian?" she had said, and that had been the first time Sebastian had realised just who the white-haired wonder was. He had heard the stories circling around the Chantry and out in the streets, the children might call her the hawk, but to just about everyone else she was simply Hawke. And not so simply Hawke was a dragon tamer, an ogre killer, a giant of a man, seven foot tall. He had laughed for some time after that as he realised that Hawke was simply a woman, a very charitable woman at that.

He had planned on engaging with her the next time she visited the orphans, but she had walked to the orphanage too swiftly, ignoring him entirely. In a moment of what he could only describe as annoyance, he got to his feet and decided to wait at the door, he would ambush her on the way out, his curiosity and pride demanded it. There was also the matter of wanting to _thank_ her for all that she did for the children, he had never seen them so happy in all his time at the Chantry.

He could hear the muffled sounds of a lute playing on the other side of the doors, and the shrill sound of children laughing which put a smile on his face. He was not good with children… no matter how hard he tried he could not keep their attention for very long, perhaps it was because his childhood was so different to their own, growing up in a castle of all places, but he liked to think he at least understood what it was like to not have parents, now that his were gone, and even before that he had been cast aside, sent to the Chantry, unwanted. Regardless, he was glad that at least someone was able to make them laugh and talk with them.

He heard Hawke laugh amongst the children who squealed in delight at whatever she was doing.

_A woman who enjoys the company of children and takes delight in hearing them laugh, not exactly a dragon taming giant. _

Then again, appearances could be very deceiving. Only his accent gave away that he was from outside of Kirkwall, his armour may have been a slight giveaway to his birth as well, but he rarely wore that inside the Chantry walls, opting, instead for plain brown robes. He had given up almost all worldly possessions from his old life. He was a sworn brother of the Chantry now… but every now and again he would remember his life as a prince, would remember his family, and the castle, and would think of all that had been lost, _taken_. There was a side to him, the side he had locked away, his youthful wildness, his disobedience, his passion and his thirst for trouble, that kept rearing its ugly head. Deny as he might that he wasn't that man anymore, it was a part of him, it was still who he was to a certain extent. Only a heartless man would not want vengeance for the murder of loved ones. But as a brother there was little he could do. And therein lay his problem, his mind was at war with what was right and what he wanted. Harder and harder was it for him to find his inner calm, he could not simply ignore or forget the transgressions done unto his family. He would not.

Worse still, his pride had been hurt when his entire family had been murdered and yet not a single assassin had been sent to finish him off along with them. He had been cast aside by his family, left in the Chantry to rot for all they cared, the forgotten prince. Even his enemies had forgotten about him, or just didn't care, perhaps they didn't see him as a threat. But surely if they planned to cease the throne for themselves he was still worth taking out? However, he was also relieved, relieved he still had his life, relieved he was not dead with them, relieved he had not been targeted. But he had so many questions. And very little in answers.

The door opened, making him jump slightly, he opened his mouth to greet Hawke but she beat him to it.

"Good day, your highness," she said nodding her head slightly.

"I- yes it is a good day," he said, his words fumbling together in the shock of her actually speaking to him.

"I saw your notice, on the Chanter's Board the other day, and I would like to inform you the deed has be taken care of," she said, her tone business like as she stared up at him.

He drank in the view that was Hawke as he processed the information she relayed to him. He found it incredibly unnerving that such a dainty woman could achieve such a task, for starters. Hawke looked somewhat small, fragile even. Yet her moon coloured hair with a dripping crimson streak gave her the air of mystery. A few years ago and Sebastian would have jumped on this woman in a heartbeat; he knew it to be true all too well. Even now feelings were swimming in the back of his head. His old friend lust had begun to whisper in his ear, followed by passion. He mentally waved them away as he tried to reply with a coherent sentence.

"I thank you, Hawke. I would have done the deed myself, but I have other ties that would be severed if I did," he said, his eyes darting around the Chantry.

"I understand, but those men were monsters and I have no fear of condemnation from the Maker," she said almost a little too boldly considering where she was currently standing.

"The Maker does not condemn us, he merely punishes us for our misdeeds," Sebastian said, defending his Maker to the death.

"But does that not mean the innocents are condemned for the misdeeds of the guilty? Or do the darkspawn know who's been naughty and who's been nice?" Hawke countered, her eyebrow raised.

"I apologise if I have insulted you Hawke, it truly was not my intention. You seem to make the children's week when you visit them," he said, trying to stray away from the topic of religion. He could tell Hawke had an argumentative witty streak that would have him almost cursing. He enjoyed listening to the debates that people had with each other, he found the banter something to relish in, even if he could not do it himself these days.

"No offense has been taken, your highness. I would not stop seeing the children over such a thing," she replied, her eyebrow raised in amusement that she had given off the impression to him as someone who was easily offended. Hawke was not what he had expected, he had always envisioned her as a huge man for starters, but he had also imagined her with a fiery temper that could obliterate an entire army.

"I am glad, so many forget the children these days. There is too much havoc in this city," Sebastian said, looking into her bright green eyes, "but I can take a guess and say that there will be much more havoc in your homeland at the moment," he added, noting her pale Ferelden skin.

"Indeed, your highness, there is. But I find their presence to be quite fun to be around, nobody really gives children credit these days," she said, her voice laced with wit and kindness entwined.

"Innocence is a rarity," Sebastian agreed, looking towards the door where he could hear the children not so slyly listening to them speak, "but the Maker blesses them with you, Hawke,"

"The Maker shall not bless me, for he knows who I am. Indulge me your highness, but should you not seek out your home now that you are the last of your line?" Hawke asked, curiosity plain on her face.

Her unorthodox reply to his compliment unnerved Sebastian but also confused him, but he had no time to ponder it as he answered her question, "I do not think it wise to go after such riches; I am a no longer a prince, Sebastian will do just fine as I have sworn myself to the Chantry," his answer was brief, for if he explained his true origins and reasons for being here, she would think he was nothing more than a harlot in male form.

"Well Sebastian, I hear that those who do not seek power are the ones who are worthy to wield it," she replied, her lips pursing as she said it.

"But those who do not accept it are sometimes the wisest of men,"

She looked amused for a moment, as if she thought that only she could read books in the entirety of this city. Sebastian couldn't really blame her for that, Hawke was a smuggler and worked jobs where killing was second nature, so no doubt she would not be amongst the well-educated groups of people.

"I find it rare to find someone who has such good taste in literature," she mused, pushing her fringe back to her ear so both of her eyes were on show.

"So do I, books grant great freedom," Sebastian agreed, running out of things to say.

"So do you wish for me to see if I can pick up a lead as to who hired the flint company?" she asked, changing to a new topic before the conversation got awkward. It seemed Hawke was naturally confident when it came to speaking amongst strangers.

"If you would be so kind as to do such a deed for me, I would pay you for it, of course," Sebastian said, shocked that the woman would so freely offer her aid.

"Well, I shall get my contacts to do some digging, but I cannot promise much. Obviously killing off an entire royal family took someone of great skill to commit such an act," she said, her eyes grim.

"Oh I wouldn't be surprised, my family were extremely arrogant about such matters," Sebastian said more to himself than to Hawke.

She didn't reply to his comment, maybe she found it a bit odd that someone would speak about their own blood in such ill terms; maybe she just didn't want to know. She gave him a nod instead, as an acknowledgement to his statement.

"I shall let you know when I have a lead, either way I shall see you next week," she said, about to take her leave.

"Next week?" Sebastian questioned, puzzled.

"Yes, when I visit the children. You don't have to skulk in the corridors you know," she said, with a knowing smile and walked off.

Sebastian found him staring at her as she sauntered away and even when she had left he remained staring at the door. He was awoken out of his daydream by a small child, tugging at his arm.

"Brother Sebastian, William would like something to eat now," the small girl chimed up to him. She was called Lilith, Sebastian knew her parents before they had died only a week ago of the wasting. He looked at the girl in confusion, her older brother William had also contracted the wasting like his parents, and from what the physician said he had not looked good, he could not even drink water his body had deteriorated that bad. They had given him a day at the most.

"Lilith, you know your brother is very sick, don't you?" Sebastian asked the young girl, wondering if it was some feverish childish fantasy where she would pretend he would be better tomorrow.

"Oh he was, but when she came today she made him all better with her shiny fingers," the little girl looked up at Sebastian with a serious face. Sebastian's stomach dropped as if it had been hurled off of the top of the Chantry itself. His face whitened and he did not even concoct a reply to the girl, merely rushing to where the orphans played and slept, his eyes seeking out the young lad who had been so close to death.

He found William sat on the edge of his cot, his feet swinging up and down the bed. He was still pale, but not as deathly as he looked a few hours ago. He had a big smile on his face as he looked up at Sebastian and for a moment he thought his drink may have been spiked earlier that day, or he was having a very odd dream.

Without another word to the orphans who were staring at him he bolted out of the room, fear and shock wriggling in his abdomen like yesterday's meal. He should have known what she was, what her statement meant. The laws were simple, and not to be broken. Her act of kindness would be her undoing. He practically jogged up to the Chantry stairs where the Grand Cleric stood, replenishing the candles on the grand altar with new ones.

"Grand cleric, I have a matter that will need the urgent requirements of the Templars," he said as he neared the old woman.

Elthina looked up at Sebastian with knowing eyes, as if she had seen the entire even take place. She asked him in a quite collected voice, "Explain yourself Sebastian,"

"I believe the woman that visits the children –Hawke- to be an apostate," he said quietly, although there was no one else around. The other brothers and sisters were doing their duties in the garden, the only other people here were the children, and they already knew and adored Hawke.

"Are you certain of this Sebastian, I would not like to cross Leandra Amell if this were a mistake," Elthina said, her wrinkled eyebrow tilting on one side.

_His mother always said that the Amell's were the best out of the nobility in Kirkwall. _

Elthina continued, "Especially someone that has already done so much for this city, to accuse someone of such a thing, especially someone of a reputation as hers,"

Sebastian looked into Elthina's eye and knew she was fully aware of what Hawke was, but both he and Elthina knew the good she did for the city, and what she had done for the boy today. They had requested a Circle mage but the Knight Commander refused to let one come to their aid, stating that the mages were under assessment and not to be disturbed. Sebastian sighed, he knew truly in his heart that Hawke was a good woman; one with pure intent and not one to grew weary and agree to the offer of temptresses.

"I must have been mistaken, you are right it must have been a coincidence, forgive me for my brashness," he said, making the old woman grin slightly.

"I've heard she is friends with a healer, maybe he was there with her," Elthina said, her eyes wide telling him to play along.

"Indeed," Sebastian said, leaving her with a small bow.

He looked back at the door where Hawke walked out of, and looked back at the Grand Cleric who smiled at him widely, as if reading his entire thoughts. He took his leave and ran out the door searching for the woman to at least thank her and assure her secret was safe. He scanned the stairs and the small square at the bottom with keen eyes, wanting to assure this woman that her kindness would not be repaid with her wrists clasped in chains. But she was nowhere to be found, even with his keen rogue vision he could not find her. He looked out into the small square at the bottom of the Chantry, deflated by her lack of presence.

_Next week it is then, Hawke. _


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen- Cullen. **

**Of course, I had to add our Templar that has been in all three games! Bravo to you Cullen, you sexy Templar, you! **

**Huge HUUUUGE thanks to my beta, Enchantm3nt, for helping me with this! I'm sorry I overwork you! **

**I hope that everyone is really enjoying their shiny new games! I nearly forgot to post due to it!**

**And a huge thanks to those who have read this, reviewed this, and followed/favourite this! You guys are amazing! Much love!**

It would not have been his first port of call, but it was a necessary one. His recruits were going missing and he needed to know why, he needed to know where they had gone, what had happened to them, and he needed to know sooner rather than later. It was not _uncommon_ for recruits to leave the Order suddenly and without much word, sometimes it simply wasn't for them, the Order was, after all, quite an undertaking. However, far too many recruits had gone missing in far too short a time for it to be a simple case of cold feet. And they were _good_ recruits with a great deal of potential, for them to up and disappear with no notice, no word, it was so very unlike them, which, of course, was why he had come in search of them.

It was typical for recruits to need time to adjust to their new lives within the Order, and it was not unusual for them to spend many a night at some of the brothels in Kirkwall. Cullen knew better than most how hard it could sometimes be to be surrounded by beautiful mage woman that you could not touch or really interact with. He could still see her face in his mind, still remember her smile. Amber Amell had become a Grey Warden and had stopped the Blight. The Tower had been… different after she had left, Cullen himself had been a little sadder too; he had missed her smiles and her laugh the most, he could almost have considered her a friend. Then, of course, things had become a living nightmare when Uldred led the revolt…

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that always resurfaced whenever he thought about Ferelden. Those memories would never leave him; they would always haunt him, and so would she. But thankfully he had a job to do, something he could focus on. Kirkwall had been a breath of fresh air for him, had helped clear his mind after the events of Kinloch Hold. And despite the occasional nightmare or flashback he was doing much better and was glad to have come to the city.

That being said, he was not looking forward to having to speak to the mistress in charge of the Brothel known as the Blooming Rose. With a heavy sigh, he straightened his back and walked forward, in through the red door and up to the woman in charge. The girls at the front scattered as soon as they saw him, all fleeing to the back of the brothel in fear. The woman in charge was also startled to see him; most people feared the Templars, especially one of his station, but she covered it up well, pursing her lips, and letting a hand rest on her hip. He could already tell she wasn't going to be very forthcoming with answers. Cullen dipped his head at her. "Madam Lusine," he said courteously. "I have questions regarding some of my men and need to speak to some of your girls."

She made a tutting noise. "I don't think so, _Ser_." She almost spat that last part and Cullen stopped himself from wincing. "My girls want nothing to do with you lot, but should your men want something to do with my girls… well, that's up to them, isn't it? I won't be giving you names and nor will my girls if that's what you're after."

He sighed slightly. "I am investigating the disappearance of my men, if I could just speak to-"

"That would involve telling you who comes here and who they see, your Order gives us a lot of business, we are known for our discreetness, _Ser_. I'll not be tarnishing the Rose's name because you've lost track of a few of your own." She folded her arms. "If that's all?"

Reluctantly he nodded and left the premises. He had known this investigation would not be easy… but he had hoped it would prove a little more forthcoming than _that_. It was easy with mages, he was in charge of them, and they had little choice but to obey his orders, but out here, especially up in Hightown things were much, much different. He had little say here, and thus, there was little he could do. He stared up at the sky outside, its dark foreboding clouds growing darker every minute and with a weary sigh he headed down the steps toward the Docks and back to the Gallows. With any luck his recruits will have returned and he could finally find out where they had been.

He briefly considered turning back around in order to go to the Keep in order to ask for the guard's help with his investigation. He liked Captain Vellen; she was a hard woman but a just one. There was another advantage of including the captain in his search for his missing recruits: Hawke. They were good friends and often worked together. Perhaps Hawke could accomplish what he could not. She had, after all, already done work with the Templars before, helping Ser Thrask with an investigation not long ago. Her brother had even inquired into joining the Templars and Cullen was seriously considering taking him in; the Templars were in desperate need of new recruits, especially with so many going missing recently. He had no doubt that Aria Hawke could get the answers he sought, but he was… reluctant to speak with her. He had only really seen her briefly up close, but even that was enough to freeze him where he stood; her resemblance to Amber Amell was quite striking. They had their differences, of course, but their eyes were the same and that had been enough to turn his mouth dry. He had to constantly remind himself that Aria Hawke was not Amber Amell, that she wasn't even a mage despite her family being known for magic in their veins. But her resemblance was enough to make him continue his walk to the Docks rather than turning around for help. He would check the Gallows first before considering involving others in his investigation.

Part of his reluctance to involve others in his investigation came from his trust issues, ever since Uldred he had stopped trusting mages, had stopped seeing them as innocent people, sure, some of them had good intentions, but they were still dangerous, each had the potential to kill dozens of people. And he did not trust others as easily now either, the Templars in Ferelden were too soft on the mages; Greagoir allowed the mages to live even after Uldred's revolt could have left them possessed or corrupted. It had been a turning point for Cullen, all that he endured, all that he saw and heard… he knew his duty now better than ever, he would be vigilant and he would do his duty and find his recruits, preferably without outside help, especially if something sinister _was_ occurring.

The thought made him grit his teeth as he reached the Docks. He was about to get into the boat that would ferry him across to the Gallows when one of his Templar recruits stepped in front of him. It was rare to have women in the Order, just as it was to have women in the City Guard, and he was glad she wasn't one of the missing, she looked worried, however.

"Knight Captain," she said with a dip of her head which he returned. "I have news of one of the missing recruits. Wilmod was here not long ago. I spoke with him but he did not seem himself; he was acting… odd. He informed me that he was going to the Wounded Coast, and that should you ask after him to tell you that you could find him there," she said as quickly as she could.

He frowned at that. Wilmod had been missing for some time, a few weeks at least. Now he had returned only to leave again with a destination. It smelt like a trap but Cullen had no way of knowing just what sort of trap it was. His desire for answers outweighed the risk, however.

"I will go and investigate. Have Ser Thrask ready a regiment of Templars should I fail to return by nightfall," he said briskly, and the recruit nodded and hopped in the boat back to the Gallows.

He stormed back up the steps to Lowtown, not liking this at all. He did not want to rouse the Templars only for this to be an elaborate attempt to free mages from the Gallows, hence why he was going alone instead of brining a large force of men with him. If he got into difficulty though… He shook his head. He knew his duty. Wilmod was _his_ recruit. His responsibility. He would do this himself.

…

He found Wilmod's camp far too easily. He wasn't sure what he had expected. A fight, perhaps. Instead, what he found was Wilmod staring up at him blankly. Cullen was immediately on edge, looking around for danger, but at the same time he was thoroughly confused.

"Wilmod," he said evenly. "What are you doing out here? Where have you been?" he said as he narrowed his eyes and let his hand rest on the pommel of his sword.

Wilmod cocked his head to the side, those dark eyes of his almost looking past him, as if not seeing him, not caring to, and still he remained silent; it was unnerving.

"You have been gone for weeks. Where did you go? Why come back now?" he asked, getting more agitated by the second.

_Nothing._

"Wilmod, explain yourself," he commanded, looking at the boy who just stared blankly up at him.

Cullen was on edge, his nerves frayed, his patience at an end. He needed answers. He _would_ have them. He closed the space between him and his recruit, his tempter getting the better of him. He needed to snap him out of that blank stare of his, needed some kind of response. He grabbed the boy by the collar and hauled him to his feet and pushed him back toward the rock.

"Andraste be my witness, Wilmod! I will have the truth from you! NOW!" Cullen spat at him, finally getting a reaction out of the boy; his face paled, his eyes widening in fear, as he staggered back against the rock.

_Finally an emotion!_

"Mercy ser! Mercy!" Wilmod almost cried, his eyes growing wider at Cullen's outburst, "Don't hit me."

The words seemed rehearsed, they seemed wrong. Cullen could sense it now he was closer to Wilmod; he could feel the blood magic hug his body tightly like a mother with a new born babe. He thought it had been different in Kirkwall, he thought that the mages were under control. It seemed not. He launched his foot into Wilmod, knowing fully well that whatever had happened to him would strike back in fear or anger. Blood mages were created by fear and anger. Anger of oppression, of death, of having to go back, Cullen knew their excuses and pitied none of them.

Wilmod fell to the ground at the impact of Cullen's foot; he stared widely up at the knight captain as if in confusion, but Cullen knew. Cullen knew something was amiss, Cullen practically lived his Templar years in blood magic, he had become familiar with its stains.

"I will know where you're going, and I will know _now_," Cullen growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the young recruit with the readiness to strike him down if the need arose.

Before he could act, he heard _her_ voice calling behind him. He had only heard it a week or so ago, and yet he knew her voice.

"So, not happy with just giving the tough love to the mages, branching out with recruits now are we, Knight Captain," Hawke's voiced chimed, making him turn for a moment to regard her. She stared at him coolly, accompanied by an elf, a dwarf and her brother Carver Hawke. Judging by the boy's disapproving glare he would no longer be considering joining the Order. The others in the party didn't look particularly impressed either, the elf had a scowl to rival the younger Hawke's and the dwarf had an eyebrow raised inquisitively, obviously curious as to what was about to transpire. It was Aria Hawke that held his attention the longest, however, those eyes of hers boring into him, icy and cold, even though her eyebrow was also cocked, a mocking smirk on her lips. He knew how quickly this could go from a confrontation to a fight with the Hawke woman. She had quite the reputation for helping innocents.

Hawke's green eyes narrowed slightly as she waited for his response, that eyebrow still raised in defiance. Her fingers twitched ever so slightly but to him it was a clear warning of a fight about to break out.

"That's the blasted Knight Captain, don't, Az," her brother muttered. Hawke looked over her shoulder at the younger Hawke, acknowledging his comment, but her stance remained hostile. One thing he knew for certain about Amell women was their damned stubbornness.

"This is Templar business, Serah Hawke," Cullen stated in a cold manner, wishing the woman would not get involved where it was not wanted. Admittedly she _had_ helped Thrask with his duties the other week but he did not need Hawke to meddle in which he knew best; he had seen blood magic at its very worst, and he would let it poison his new home as it had done in Ferelden.

Before he could turn back and deal with Wilmod, a manic laugh escaped the young recruit behind him. Cullen swirled round quickly, trying to gather his thoughts from the madness that was occurring, but Wilmod started speaking, his voice no longer his own.

"You have struck me for the last time, pathetic human. To me!" Wilmod called out into the sky as he backed away from the Knight Captain, a sadistic looking smile plastered upon his youthful face.

A blood red light blinded his sight and before Cullen even regained it he knew what would be stood waiting for him. Sure enough, n abominationstood in Wilmod's place, its arms outstretched and ready to attempt to take Cullen to the Maker's side. He turned to look at Hawke, and was shocked to see her face was not shocked nor disgusted but instead she got out her daggers in a calm manner, as if was about to have a sparring match rather than face a demonic monster of the Fade.

Before the battle could even begin, the abomination summoned reinforcements. Cullen readied his sword for the fight, the Chant of Light playing in the back of his head as it had done for almost eight years of his life. He charged with sword ready, brandishing it more like it was a part of his own self than a heavy metal weapon. He swung it towards the demon that was once Wilmod, but before he could put the abomination to its knees he heard the slash of daggers and the abomination was already on the floor.

_Maker__,__ had she become invisible?_

If it were not for the sounds of daggers slashing he would not even be able to tell that Hawke was fighting amongst her companions. She darted around her brother as their bodies were tied, stabbing any part of the abomination with a quick fury. The elf was fighting amongst them too; Cullen could almost taste the lyrium that the elf emitted as he flashed about the abomination that was attempting to make its way to Hawke. It seemed he was not the only man who was curious about the woman. The dwarf, the elf and her brother seemed to sense her more than see her, but still protected her as if she was precious. _Oh yes, he remembered the effect the last Amell had given him. _

He wondered for a moment if there was a man that was more than a brother in arms to Hawke but shook the thought off quickly as he smashed his sword into a demon's throat. No, women like Hawke seemed to be all business and no pleasure so to speak. Yet, he found these kind of qualities to be somewhat admirable.

The battle ended with a storm of arrows that the dwarf had released, and Cullen walked up to Hawke who very much like himself was covered in demon ichor and blood. She did not look too bothered by the grime that covered her and Cullen wondered how many times she had experienced such things.

"I knew, I _knew_ he was involved in something sinister," Cullen said to her, before she could comment anything more on his actions. It made him shudder to think that he wanted to justify his actions to her and yet he did it willingly. He hoped she would not think ill of him, he hoped a lot of things but none of them rarely happened. Did he have a small crush on Hawke? Was it because she reminded him slightly of her cousin? He started to doubt himself but snapped himself back to his duties.

A Templar had been possessed. He had never heard of such a thing, he had never dreamed of such a thing even his worst nightmares. A thing like this could label Templars just as weak as mages in the terms of demons; it could spurn morale for mages and diminish the Order. Cullen would not have that, he would not allow it to happen. And yet it unnerved him how easily they had obtained his Templars, how easily they too had succumbed to demons. Cullen had started doubting everything lately, when it was too late to doubt most things.

"How is this even possible?" he asked Hawke, but was really questioning thin air. He knew that Hawke would certainly not know of such things, especially if he didn't.

She looked at him softly for a moment, then glared at him with a scowl he remembered the Chantry mother from his childhood used to wear on her face.

"You shouldn't have been alone here Knight Captain," she said, scolding him.

Cullen blinked once. Twice. She wasn't concerned about the possessed Templar recruit, but that he was out here alone? Cullen wondered if this woman was mad, and even if she was he knew it was most likely the good kind.

"Luckily I had you. I thank you for your assistance, Serah Hawke," he said, bowing to the woman before him.

"Please, it's Aria to my friends," she chimed, her scowl completely ironed over with an easy smile.

_Friends_? It was an odd thought to Cullen. In one hand Aria Hawke held a cold bitterness but in the other she held friendship? This woman was a contradiction to all those who walked among her, her very spirit screamed that she was chaos and yet many followed her. Cullen eyed the dwarf and the elf, two spectrums of the races amongst Thedas and yet they stood together united under Hawke.

"Aria it is then. I have been following leads for two days now; I checked the brothel, hoping to speak to some of the, ahem, ladies, that worked there but they seemed uncomfortable by my presence," Cullen said, not wanting to explain to Aria Hawke that his mere being had scared away all of the girls and got him kicked out by the Madam in charge like he was some kind of villain. "Yes, I can see why the Knight Captain walking into a brothel that is so commonly used by his recruits would unnerve the women there," Hawke agreed, a smile playing on her lips as she replied. Cullen was unnerved by this woman, there was something underneath the surface, deeper than he could see and he knew for his own sake he wouldn't want to find out. The elf smirked for a moment at her remark, but the expression changed in a flash, resuming its normal indifferent glare.

"This needs to be ended, and fast," Cullen stated, the truth resounding from his like a never ending echo from an endless tunnel. He knew what Meredith would do if she even caught wind of the extremity of the acts that were being committed. She would destroy everything and anything associated with the crime, she would call upon the Divine and the march on Kirkwall would begin with an hour's notice. As much as Cullen admired Meredith and her ruling over the Circle, she was nothing but extreme when it came to matters such as this. If someone were to help him resolve the matter before it became out of hand, if maybe he could have someone from the outside to help play the problem down a little… He looked at Hawke and before he even asked what he knew he would end up asking she interrupted, a knowing smirk on her face.

"I shall look into it for you, Knight Captain, the girls will be a lot more talkative to little old me," she said dramatically, a sarcastic grin glinting on her lips.

Aria Hawke was a rare creature indeed, it seemed most of the Amell women were. Cullen could feel it in his aging bones that the name Aria Hawke would become famous across the Free Marches for years to come.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty - Fenris**

**So, guys twenty chapters! A huge thanks to my amazing beta as always, Enchantm3nt, thank you for sticking by me for so long!**

**I will be closing up act one within the next few chapters, but I had to throw in some Merril/Carver, I think I prefer a sweeter Carver rather than the arrogant one we got in the game! **

**Thank you for your follows and your reviews! You guys have been so awesome!**

_A small red-headed girl ran through a cobblestoned courtyard, laughing as she cried out a name. He was not sure exactly where he was, only that it felt familiar; it felt like… home. _

"_Leto!" the girl laughed, stretching her arms out towards him from the other end of the yard. _

_He started running toward her__,__ but the harder he ran the farther away she seemed. _

"_LETO!" she screamed, this time more anxious than her last shout. _

"_**LETO!"**_

Fenris woke, startled, trying to recall the dream he had just had; the more he seemed to concentrate on memorising every detail the quicker it seemed to fade away like holding water in bare hands. He sat up, rubbing his aching back as he did so; yesterday he had gone along to one of Hawke's endeavours and had been wounded so badly that the abomination had been forced to heal him. Forced was indeed the correct verb for the action as Fenris recalled the hazy memory of Hawke shouting at the male mage as he looked at Fenris as if contemplating what to do.

Fenris, of course, felt disgusted that the abomination had used his magic to heal him; he had promised himself that no mage would use their craft upon him again, within reason, and yet he had found himself at the mercy of another mage. And yet he knew without the abomination he would surely be dead, although he had no doubt in his mind that the abomination did it to gain Hawke's affection and if he wasn't lusting after their fearless leader he would have had no intention on tending to Fenris' wound.

Their mission had been completed, thankfully, without any of them dead or worse. The Winters had been taken care of and the Viscount's son dropped safely off home after being extremely thankful to Hawke for stopping the Winters. It was part of Hawke's mask that made her so frighteningly charming; no one could really see what was underneath her sarcastic disposition.

Fenris was beginning to scratch the surface with Hawke, thanks to the amount of time he spent with her. Where others found her to be full of wit and charm, Fenris knew that it was nothing more than a clever ruse. Of course, Hawke was a smart woman and her wit was her from her own mind but none of the others could see how closely she used that wit to defend her heart. She had also not displayed a single bout of magic ever since the night he had met her, and that had been six weeks ago today. He did not know whether to be surprised or to just laugh at the irony of the past six weeks.

He was not sure why he decided to stay that night; he could blame it on drunken tomfoolery and pretend it wasn't the mere image of the white haired woman standing before him, her eyes wide as the moonlight shone on her pale skin. In that moment the sight of Hawke had looked somewhat poetic, as if she was a beacon of hope for him. Fenris had little time for such things, but in his drunken haze he saw her in that way for a moment.

But after that, the fire that had burnt so desperately in the pit of his stomach had died. She had not approached him in any sort of flirtatious manner since that night, yet he had found a release in arguing with her. Hawke was a strong woman, and excellent in a debate.

He stretched his arms out in an attempt to rid himself of the grogginess that his injury and sleep had bestowed on him and climbed out of the bed, after neatening the covers, he strolled to the basin to wash himself. He looked at his reflection in the dusty mirror, making expressions as he did so. He did not know how old he was, but he could guess it was about Hawke's age, maybe a bit more. Age didn't really seem to bother Fenris as much as it should, it barely seemed like time had passed to him. He had spent every second of the day with Danarius when he was birthed from his new life and knew nothing of what came before. In a way, he thanked Danarius for that, he knew that if he could remember having a family then he surely would have died trying to save them as well as himself.

He did not give his dirty former master much gratitude however, for if were not for the greedy bastard's sickening desire to create someone like Fenris, then maybe Fenris would be happier. Oh yes, he probably would have still been a slave but at least he would not have to be so alone. Whatever came before Danarius, he felt that he had someone who once loved him. He walked away from the basin, trying not to dwell on bitter thoughts as he dressed for the day.

He opened the curtains to see the midday sun blazing in the late morning. It was odd… to say the least that Hawke had not turned up and dragged him out of bed to come along to whatever job she had rustled up for the day. He had spent many weeks at Hawke's side and hated to admit that he had grown to respect and value Hawke's friendship. As much as he had tried to shun her away at the beginning he found that Hawke's morals and her beliefs were as strong as iron and even though her view on mages seemed to be a lot beseeching than his, he found he looked at her in admiration. She had stood in front of the Knight Captain of the order that condemned her kinds and looked at him not in fear, -as Fenris had seen many mages in Kirkwall did when they cast their eyes on the renowned Templar- but with a ferocity that Fenris had no doubt would cause the Maker to back down. She had seen her storm through gangs of bandits, thugs and whatever else plagued the streets. She was a tsunami, and her popularity had begun to increase more and more each day.

And yet, even though he stood beside her and fought amongst her he doubted his every thought around her. She was a walking contradiction, and Fenris found that many things that contradicted their selves did not mix correctly together. And however much Hawke clung to the shadows as if she were a babe and they were her mother's arms, Danarius would pull her out into the spotlight and know her for what she was. He would be disgusted by the sight of her, mages that denied their heritage and power wereas good as slaves. If the worst were to happen, Fenris would have his hands stained with blood once again.

He had spent many a night deep in thought of the possibilities of what could happen and even he knew that beyond his rage and hatred for his former master, he was still collared. This hold that Danarius had on him was tight, and he truly didn't know if he could overcome it to rid himself of the one that held his leash. He wanted to feel free, he wanted to be free but until the day came when he would run no more he would not class himself as free.

He looked around the desolated bedroom and for the first time in ages found himself at a loss as to what to do for the day. It was strange that Hawke had not already called on him and asked for his help, he found himself surprised that he had some free time. He had already cleaned around his bedroom so it was in a somewhat tidy state.

Fenris pondered for a moment what he would do, and decided that he would go see the dwarf after picking up something to eat, of course. In the past few weeks Fenris had been trying new delicacies with the money Hawke had paid him. He had tried Ferelden cheeses and wines, studied taffy and liquorice and even begrudgingly paid a sovereign for chocolate since Hawke had given it high praise and found like most things, Hawke was right.

He began his travels through Hightown to the Hanged Man, where Varric permanently lodged. Fenris had a feeling that the dwarf had enough gold to own a mansion in Hightown but secretly enjoyed living in one of the most central social hubs of the city. Varric liked to keep his ears to the ground and he was certainly short enough. As Fenris passed stalls full of luxurious items that were befit of the nobles of Hightown he heard the familiar voice of Carver Hawke drifting from the masses of people doing their daily shopping.

"Just stay with me, I won't let you get lost, I promise," his voice simmered through the crowds and for a moment Fenris thought he was talking to his older sibling. He didn't want to admit it but he found it unsettling that he had not seen Hawke today and wondered where she was off to. Fenris wasn't sure if he should go say hello to the two siblings or if he would look like he had purposefully sought them out. He shifted through the crowd nonetheless, his body taking over before his mind could object. He found Carver Hawke walking through the crowds with great ease, but the woman on his arm was not Hawke.

It was the blood mage.

She clung to Carver in an almost childish manner as if he was the only thing keeping her safe amongst the crowds; they were extremely close as they walked through the markets, viewing the stalls as they walked by. Her hand was touching his bicep and his arm was around her waist in a nonchalant manner. If Fenris didn't know them he would have just thought that they were a poor couple coming to view the pretty things that they could not afford. He frowned at himself for even thinking that Carver would ever have to reassure his boisterous overconfident sister about getting lost.

"Oooh Carver, look at that bangle! Isn't it shiny! It's like those that Isabela wears!" the blood mage squealed, pointing to a specific item on one of the stalls they were close to.

"If you like, when I come back from the Deep Roads I'll buy you it, Merril," Carver replied, turning to look at her face with a huge smile on his. Fenris almost vomited at the mere sight of the young man's attempts to court the blood mage. He should know better than this, he had been raised around mages and should know the risks more than most. And yet he followed her around with his love-struck eyes as if she was royalty, not a blood mage that spoke to a demon on a regular occurrence.

"Ooooh no! Please don't, Carver, it costs far too much!" Merril argued, walking away from the stall and dragging him with her with great ease. It didn't really surprise Fenris, he didn't doubt that all Merril had to do was point which cliff to jump off and Carver would do it without questions.

"Come on, let's just get some chocolate and we can have our picnic," Carver said, turning his head in Fenris' direction almost as if he could sense that he was nearby. Without even thinking, Fenris hid behind one of the closer stalls, pretending to view some of the robes that were on sale. He did not know why he had decided to hide. It was not as if he intentionally followed them…

And that was when it hit him. He realised why Hawke wasn't going about her daily business. He scanned the shadows in search for her and found her hiding behind the columns a few yards away from where her brother and the blood mage were.

He almost laughed at the sight of her, he had to admit when she wanted to be hidden she did it well but he had many years' experience in finding things that did not want to be found, it was after all his job to guard his former master with his life and a job he had until recently taken seriously. He watched in amusement as Hawke trailed after her brother, it shocked Fenris to see that there was some sense of normality in Hawke's persona, where most knew her as the cut throat rogue who got jobs done Fenris was witnessing her as Aria Hawke, nosy older sister.

He decided he would cut her off before she ruined whatever the blood mage and her brother had intended to do for the day without her. Of course, he thought it would be rather amusing to see the blood mage squirm under Hawke's gaze but he knew that nothing ill would truly come out of it as Hawke just like her younger sibling was naïve enough to believe that the mage was harmless, at most he felt that it would just make an increased awkwardness within the group. But he did want to confront her about what she was doing, Hawke and her brother fought tooth and nail about him coming with her on every job. They were constantly together and it was rare that days such as this came across, Fenris didn't truly know why the younger sibling had taken to protecting his sister- she was a worthy opponent in battle and could handle herself- and he didn't and yet he had an inkling it was something to do with why she did not want to be touched._ She always spoke about her need for space and yet here she was following her brother as he tried to advance his friendship with the blood mage to the relationship area! _Fenris was no genius when it came to matters of the heart, quite frankly he thought he lacked one but he knew that Carver would have to get a move on with his courtship of the blood mage, before she began a relationship with the demons who whispered to her.

He copied Hawke's pace and watched her steer off into the alley, she had obviously not even noticed he was there as she was too enraptured in watching her brother try to court the blood mage. He found his moment to intervene and quickly followed her down the alley.

"Hawke!" he shouted, making her freeze. She turned around in one swift fluid like motion and glared at him.

"Fenris, how lovely to see you here. Were you following me?" she asked, feigning formality as she always did, in fact she did it so often Fenris classed it as one of her many traits.

"How ironic Hawke, that you accuse me of such things when you are obviously borderline obsessive with your younger brother's personal life," Fenris countered, used to the little dance that they did with each other.

"What? Carver was there, sweet Maker I must have become lost in my thoughts…maybe I'm becoming broodier than you!" she quipped back.

She seemed exhausted, with bags under her eyes that looked almost bruised on her pale skin that normally had a pearlescent shine to it but was almost a milky grey. Her eyes however, contradicted her entire face and were as always a bright green, it seemed fitting Fenris thought to himself as he looked into her eyes, that she contradicted herself even with her fatigue.

"Hawke, you may not wish to explain yourself to me but I am sure your brother may see himself as one worthy of an explanation," Fenris said, knowing that the mentioning of telling Carver anything to do with what had just happened was either his best bet of getting to know another thing about her or for her to hit him so hard in his manhood that he wouldn't be able to feel them until feast day.

Her glare narrowed at his words, but her mouth flicked upwards into a small mischievous grin. Hawke's grin was something he knew was not to be questioned; it normally meant that a fight would begin sooner rather than later.

She sighed, and rubbed her temples for a moment before continuing to glare at him. The situation would have been almost funny, if he did not fear for the safety of his male reproductive parts.

"Before you even start with the high and mighty attitude Fenris, I didn't mean to follow him, I needed to speak to Aveline in the keep and then I saw him and Merrill…" she cut off, wrinkling her nose as she tried to explain her intentions. In the past six weeks he had noticed that whenever Hawke was uncomfortable she would wrinkle her nose madly as if whatever thought that lurked in her brain could be sneezed out. The abomination had commented on it saying he thought it was endearing and a small part of him had agreed with him, until he saw how furious it had made Hawke and decided that he liked his innards where they were.

"As always Hawke, I shall do my best to not offend you with my manner, and you could have evaded the crowds easily," Fenris replied, his voice dripping in sarcasm. He knew the only way to talk to Hawke was through blood, gold or sarcasm.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit you know," she replied, looking at him almost impishly with tired green eyes.

"This explains why you and the dwarf use it so much," Fenris countered, a grin on his face at his accomplishment.

"Not really, we use all manners of wit therefore making the fact that we use sarcasm moot, we're just using our tools, however you only stick to sarcasm and never expand your wit therefore you are an idiot and me and Varric are geniuses," she lectured almost, arguing her point and making Fenris' eyebrows mash together in annoyance that she had actually found a way to argue back.

"Faasta Vas, you will argue until you are old and withered and even then you would argue with a tree if it grew the wrong way," he cursed, trying to fight back the smile that was spreading on his face.

"Yes, but I am lovable so that's all that really matters," she chimed, flicking her hair back and winking in an almost feminine fashion; the smile on his face burst before he could stop himself. One of Hawke's rare gifts was that she could indeed make anyone smile, himself included, it seemed.

"As you say, Hawke,"

"It's my Father's birthday today," she gushed out, she spoke so quickly Fenris could only just pick it up with his sensitive elf ears. He could see how uncomfortable it had made her just by telling him, all of her bravado had been completely erased and what replaced it was this shy woman who was staring at the floor so furiously Fenris thought it may crack and swallow the both of them whole.

"I see, and is that the reason you wished to speak to Aveline?" Fenris asked, curious as always when it came to Hawke.

"No, that was about another matter entirely, I wanted to ask for assistance tomorrow with Javaris and the Arishok, I thought maybe a symbol of authority may diffuse the situation," she said, her tone becoming business like and making Fenris almost want to curse at the fact she was beginning to close herself up once again. He felt that he and Hawke were becoming friends, she had earned his respect to say the least for now and provided him with money and warm food and wine in his stomach; such liberties he had not tasted until now.

"I see, I wondered why you had not called on me today, Hawke, since you have been doing nearly every day for the past few weeks, I have to admit it was… unsettling that I had nothing to do today," Fenris admitted out loud. It was the truth, he had found it odd to not be following her or listening to her and Varric and whatever mischief or argument they were engaging with. Varric came with most of the time, everywhere she went. Fenris felt a pang in his stomach as he thought of Varric, but could define what the pang signified. His body was trying to explain something to him what he couldn't understand.

There was a silence for a moment, and Hawke fiddled with her belt and played with the strings of her coin pouch. He watched her, and realised this was the first time he had truly seen Hawke look awkward and somewhat timid…

"I try not to remember how delusional he got at the end," she said, but it was as if she wasn't really talking to him, more like recalling a bad dream that had haunted her from years ago. He didn't know what to say, in all honesty he was more shocked that in one sentence Hawke had told him more than anyone else apart from her family had ever knew about her. It irked him somewhat that she had chosen to share this information with him, like somewhere along the line of working together they had become close friends and he hadn't even realised it.

"Your father was a mage, was he not?" Fenris asked, in genuine curiosity rather than fuelled malice.

"Yes, why do you ask? Glad that there's less of us out there?" she spat back, and he almost cursed at himself for not realising that she would not receive his question so kindly.

"No, if they were anything like you, then I doubt that I would hate them as much as I hate others of your kind," he said, honesty reigning in his voice. And it was true, in all his years he had seen the disgusting things that mages would do to climb up the ladder. He could still see the blood on his hands even now and he had been free for quite some time.

She nodded at his reply, and the two shared an awkward moment of silence. Fenris' body and mind seemed like they were two different things when he was around Hawke. His mind warned him of what she was and could become, where his body buzzed almost excitedly in a way he just could not understand. It seemed that Hawke had this effect on most, whatever_ it_ was.

"I just seem to be the only one that remembers his birthday now," she almost whispered, her eyes wide with shock as if was horrifying that she was speaking to him about her feelings.

"I doubt they would have forgotten, Hawke, merely that they are just moving on," he replied, trying to be diplomatic about the situation, he was_ useless_ at giving advice.

"If only it were that easy. Thank you, Fenris, for speaking with me, I don't have to warn you what I will do to you if you tell anyone of what you saw today, I think you already get the gist of what I can do," she said, her tone resigning back to its usual witty self.

"Anytime, Hawke, may I ask you a question? You need not reply if it is something you do not wish to speak about," he said, wondering why Hawke's father's death that was many years ago had taken such a hold on her life and being. Everything about Hawke screamed that she was stuck in the past and not ready to let go, and what Carver had told the group about Bethany's death it seemed to fan the flames of Hawke's anger at whatever the world had done.

"Ask away," she said, shooting him her best dazzling smile and making his stomach flip for a moment. Sometimes he wondered if she did it on purpose, and in some other life Hawke was the incarnation of a siren, ready to drown men with her voice alone.

"How did your father pass away?" he said, jumbling his words quickly as if he was scared to say them or even hurt her feelings, however curious he may be about them.

Her face darkened as if a shadow had covered her entire face in the middle of the day. Her eyes became slits and her jaw clenched to neutralise whatever emotion she felt. . He could see her tightening her body up as if she was recoiling from him and the question he asked.

"He was murdered."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 20 **

**Another nightmare **

**Sorry guys, another Hawke memory chapter! Hope this is not too annoying and you're enjoying reading them. I'll have the Hawke memory chapters closed off very soon!I hope you're all enjoying this, I've been having some writer's block recently and my beta Enchantm3nt has as always been helping me out! (Also, you should check out some of her stories because they're amazing!I value all of your opinions so please, any ideas for act two please let me know! If it works I'll of course fit it in! **

**Thank you for your reviews, follows and favourites! **

**X**

I close my eyes as Olivia brushes my hair, ridding it of the grime that has coated it for the past few days. For a moment, I can almost pretend that I am back with Mother and she is brushing my hair like she usually did every evening. She would have a fit if she saw it in its current state; she adores my hair more than she adores me.

Olivia is a blood mage; I can smell her power as it rolls off of her in waves as she brushes my hair silently. Each mage has a different taste of power and it is how other mages can sense their kin. I ache for the days where I could smell my father's metallic aura; I miss him now more than ever. It is my fault. I know it's my fault he's dead. He should not have tried bartering with them or hoodwinking them or whatever it is that he had done; the Templar wasn't very specific on what happened whilst he defiled my body.

Olivia stops brushing my hair and the room goes silent and my stomach swirls waiting for whatever hell that I am to be introduced to. Silence is a limbo where I stay in between torture and being left alone. The silence makes me on edge, like a dagger on its point; ready to fall.

"You know, if they even tried to do to me what they have done to you I would have burnt them all," she spits, moving herself to my view and looking at me with intense cruel eyes. It feels as if she is scanning me, looking into my soul and assessing my very being.

She waits for a reply, but I've forgotten how to talk. I don't know what to do.

"You have a very wild aura about you, yet you sit here weak and caged. I was like you once, and then I saw the world and the plight of the demons," she says, a serious tone taking hold of her.

I say nothing, for I have forgotten how to care.

I wonder if my family have stopped looking for me. Have they even realised that I am not coming back? I remember before I left for a walk hours before, mother and I argued and I told her I was going to find the Dalish where I felt as if I had a family. Would she believe me? Would Carver and Bethany hate me? Would I live long enough to tell them how sorry I was?

The door opens, and Derek enters the small office and sits himself next to the desk. He stares at me for a moment and nods his head to Olivia, obviously signalling that she should leave. I am stuck in limbo once again, and my body becomes as stiff as a wooden coffin as he stares at me.

"You look much better now, Aria," he says, a smile shining on his face as he looks at me like I'm a shining jewel in his collection.

I don't say anything, but he doesn't seem too bothered. He almost seems excited, giddy in fact like a young child waiting for their name day. It makes my stomach twist in anticipation. I know what ever is to come will most likely be just as bad as what I have just had to endure before his arrival.

"Have you ever heard of Golems before, Aria?" he asks me, it is completely random to say the least. Here I am sat waiting for whatever pain is to come next and remembering every sordid detail of what my body has gone through the past few days and the man wishes to know if I have ever heard of the stone warriors created by the dwarves.

"Y-yes," I stammer out, for my body and my mind are now two separate beings, where my mind is overthinking my body is slowly trudging along, battered and bruised and broken in such a way that I know that another man will never be able to touch such dirt.

"Well, the golems are made to serve by means of a control rod, they are still alive and were once dwarven kin but they have become immortal; they will live forever because of the stone," he continues, and I sense he is not quite at the point he wants to discuss with me, so I do not reply.

"Do you know why we brought you here?" he asks, looking at me from the desk, his cold molten grey eyes bright and menacing as he looks at me.

I shake my head, my voice is gone. I can almost feel the tension, the calm before the storm thrumming in the office. I want to leave; why can this not just be some disgusting vile dream? Why can I not wake up in my bed, with my dignity and virginity still intact? Why can I not wake up to the smell of my father's steaming hot coffee and warm bread with honey?

"For years, apostates like you have become an issue; Olivia is an excellent example of this. She is not under control or monitored and thus has resorted to feed from the breast of a demon. I hope you haven't become too attached to her, I'm afraid she will be most likely dead by now. A shame, she was quite beautiful, not like yourself but in her way. I must admit her rebellious spirit was quite attractive, but order must be kept…" he starts to ramble, and he knows he has and stops for a moment and looks at me with a warm encouraging smile.

"In an ideal world, Aria, where do you see the mages fitting into it?"

His question makes me falter from my fear for a moment, and I think of the question. In an ideal world there would be no such thing as demons.

"I-I would hope there would one day be a world with no-no demons," I reply, my voice shaking as I try my best to speak.

He looks at me politely, as if we are merely chatting upon the quality of the decorating in the room, but his voice is grave as he continues, "there will never be a world without demons, nor a world without mages like Olivia who would abuse their power and yet I find myself admiring your kind; Olivia practically destroyed Eric in a heartbeat. Eric, who has served the Maker since he was a boy and is one of the most experienced Templars in Thedas, and that is where we finally settle onto you," he says, his warm smile growing wider as he reaches for the teapot on the desk and pours tea into two cups. I do not know how to act around this man, for he contradicts himself at every turn. His smile is warm and inviting but his eyes are molten steel that is frozen and yet burning at the same time.

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask, wishing he would just get it over with.

"On the contrary, I am going to make you more alive than you've ever been! I was in the order for many years, my dear Aria. And every time I saw a mage rebel, I saw more and more of my comrades fall all to take down a single mage. I remember one lad, a young apprentice who had been in the tower all his life and had successfully escaped five times without any of us even noticing!" he chortles, looking at me with good humour, "it's why I admire you, because for everything that we Templars were gifted with, it seems you were gifted with something better."

He takes a sip from his tea cup whilst offering me a drink also; I take the cup and take a deep swig of the warm drink, letting it soothe my burning throat.

"After seeing the capabilities that your kin could do when they truly put their mind to it, I thought of a revolutionary theory: how would an apostate fair against their own kind? How would they fair against a soldier that was trained in every possible arcane art? A mage hunter that was too, a mage!" he jeers triumphantly, almost as if he impresses himself more than me.

Vomit comes rocketing up my throat at his words, and I feel myself ready to vomit my tea straight at him. What sort of a man would even suggest such a thing, and more to the point not even a lowly blood mage would hunt his own kind! I can feel a fog in my mind, the pieces are there…

_Golems are made to serve by means of a control rod, they are still alive!_

I can't help it now; the vomit comes up and splatters on the floor. I will not become a slave, not to no one I would rather lose myself to the demons instead. I am sick and I am tired, all it would take is just a simple yes, a simple yes and it would all go away.

He does not even seem shocked that I have thrown up all over the floor; he looks at me pleasant as ever, completely indifferent about the sea of vomit that is slowly spreading around the room and the disgusting scent that is accompanying it.

"Imagine it, Aria, you would be beautiful. You would be trained in every art of magic, your mind free unless you proved yourself to be unfaithful to your cause, you would save thousands of lives from your kind who upset the balance," he says, passion burning in his voice.

"I will not become your pet, you sicken me," I spit, hatred boiling my words and giving me the confidence to deny them what they so desperately want. I will not be dominated no longer; all it would take is a simple yes…

"It is too late to argue," he states simply, a smile on his lips.

"I would rather succumb to a demon!" I try to shout, but my voice is not even slightly threatening, it is more of whine than anything else.

"Your tea has been spiked, Aria," he says and just as he says it, my body slumps to the ground with a loud thud, and I cannot move a single part of me apart from my eyes. I look up at him as he peers over me, my vision blurry yet his smile so bold I can see it through my impaired vision.

The darkness encumbers me, until I know nothing more.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22- In the face of a giant, the dagger falls. **

**So, guys seriously! I am so happy you all seem to be enjoying this! Thank you for your follows, your reviews and favourites!**

**My beautiful beta, Enchantm3nt has been so amazing through this!**

**Here is another instalment… I will be on act two very very soon. **

**Lunaa x**

Hawke despised the smell of rotting fish. Of all the disgusting scents she had been subjected to during her time in Kirkwall the scent of dead fish caused her stomach to twist in adamant protest. Maybe it was because she had been born and raised in the farmlands of Ferelden, where the only fish to ever be seen were the salmon that swam upstream and were very alive with no scent lingering. Maybe it was because it was the corpse after corpse of fish crammed into a wet barrel that made the smell so repugnant to her. Either way, it did not matter; she hated the smell and that was that.

She stood at the stairs of the docks, waiting for Aveline and the others to accompany her.. She had initially asked Isabela and her brother to accompany her on this venture, but Isabela had refused to come and mediate with the Qunari, stating that it was far too boring and she had much better plans. Sometimes Hawke wished she could be as free as Isabela, but then she realised in her own way Isabela was not really free; the more she spoke to the pirate the more she realised that something more than Castillion was tying her down to the renowned City of Chains, and the more she realised the more she wanted to find out.

So, as Hawke was a man short for her venture Fenris had offered himself for the day. Hawke admitted that it would be quite handy to have Fenris around, since Anders was busy at the clinic it gave her some comfort that he at least could reach in and grab wherever the Qunari decided to throw their spear. She still found what had happened weeks ago between them quite awkward; she felt almost ashamed, after seven – nearly eight – years of control and independence, all it had taken was a few shots of drink and she had almost come onto him.

And yet, Fenris had stayed.

And he was still willing to be around her after she awkwardly tried to speak her emotions to him. It was childish, but she felt a pang of jealousy towards Merrill who had Carver's full attention. She would normally speak to Carver about such things and now it seemed they were becoming more distant by the day. It truly sank in the other day, when her brother had decided to go out on a date with Merrill rather than spend the day with her to make sure she didn't get sad or lonely on father's name day. So she had feebly tried to speak with Fenris, a man who didn't understand his own feelings, and instead of trying to explain herself she had walked off. She was pathetic.

_Maker, she was going to order herself a bottle of wine to go tonight. _

She cast her eyes around the docks, searching for trouble as she always did. She saw a few men exchanging contraband, but the dock was mainly full of workers at this time of day. It seemed that the bad guys only really came out when it was dark, making it much better for her. She loved the dark.

She brought her eyes to the stairs and was greeted by the sight of her brother and Fenris, following the charge of the guard captain Aveline. Whenever Aveline barged her way in, Hawke could automatically tell she felt uncomfortable or stressed, and Aveline tended to relieve her stress by crushing enemies with her Templar shield (Wesley's shield no less) or by storming along the streets looking as intimidating as a bull in an ornament shop.

Her brother had not come home until late last night, and he was oddly in the best of moods. She did not ask him what had happened; in fact, she had pretended not to care. It was childish and stupid but she felt that Carver should have been there with her; they were all that they had left now that Beth and Father were gone. It was their duty to Mother as well.

"Oh come on now big sister, if you brood that much I think Varric will be renaming _you_ Broody," Carver cajoled as he hit the last step, a cheerful smile on his face.

"And if you carry on smiling like that, he's going to either rename you Gormless. What's up did you finally have sex last night?" she replied in a cool manner, ignoring a passing woman's gasp of shock.

Aveline looked at Hawke for a moment as if trying to understand what kind of mood she was in, she then looked at Carver who flashed a look of innocence and cocked his head at her in confusion.

"Before it even starts, that is enough! Let's go and speak with the Arishok before you two start and make a laughing stock out of yourselves, or worse, the guards!" Aveline snapped, her voice booming with authority as she stared at both Hawke and Carver in a challenging manner.

"I agree, the Arishok will most likely take you and your dwarven accomplice as fools and deem your new business partner unworthy of the trade," Fenris added, moving his fringe from his eyes as he did so. Hawke tried not to look at him but found herself unable to resist, she threw a quick glance and her stomach dropped as she saw that Fenris was staring at her. His manner was stoic and his body its usual spiky self, but something in his eyes spoke volumes to her.

"Well, Mum, Dad as always what would we do without you to make sure that we behave like good children!" Hawke quipped back, sarcasm drenching her entire voice.

Aveline's eyebrow raised almost into her ginger hairline, but she did not deem Hawke's quip worthy of a reply. Which was a shame, since right now Hawke just needed a good argument; she needed to vent. She needed to vent her anger before she snapped at Carver and did something stupid; it was whenever Hawke was angry or scared that her magic seemed to unravel in her hands. And of course if she did that, then Fenris would most likely run his sword through her as soon as he witnessed it.

Hawke took a deep breath, reined in what little control she had today, and began to speak as a leader, rather than an annoyed child who had thrown the teddy out of the cot and wanted it desperately back.

"Right, we're here to sweeten the deal, let Javaris do the talking, he's the one we're working with here and Aveline try best not to intimidate any of them, you're here because you want to request a meeting with the Arishok, remember?" Hawke said, looking around the group as they answered with yes's and nods.

They made their way up the stairs to Qunari compound, but before they could enter they were greeted by two rather large and formidable looking Qunari. Most Qunari were formidable, but these seemed to be some of the largest that Hawke had ever seen. Truthfully, she had only ever seen one Qunari, and that one had lacked horns and was locked in a cage. She had enjoyed speaking with Sten about the Qun, even if she didn't agree with it, despite what Sten had done, she had tried sneaking him some food so that he wouldn't suffer quite so much, but he had refused her every single time, he _wanted_ the punishment. She could think of little worse, slowly starving to death only be butchered by darkspawn. "Human, what is your business here?" one of them asked, staring at her with an annoyed look on his war painted face. Hawke knew there was a time and a place for her wit, and this was certainly not one of them. Qunari were known for having short tempers.

"I have business with Javaris Tintop and the Arishok," Hawke replied in a collected manner. She wasn't stupid enough to tell a Qunari she wanted to invite them all over for tea and biscuits.

"Then you may pass today, human," the Qunari replied in a cold tone, moving away from the gate and pushing it open with just the flex of his arm.

The Qunari compound was smaller than what Hawke had assumed, Qunari were dotted everywhere like the fish in the barrels apart from the fact they were quite alive. It was almost claustrophobic, there was so little space. They walked forwards and Hawke could instantly tell which one of them was the Arishok. It was not that he was sat on a makeshift throne at the top of the stairs, or the armour that he wore, it was that he was the biggest fucker that Hawke had ever seen. And that was putting it lightly. Even the Arishok's horns were twice as big as the Qunari's that were littered around the compound. He looked down at Hawke as she approached with an air of annoyance, as if she was a little bug buzzing in his ear. She looked towards the stairs to see that Javaris was already here as he had planned, twiddling his thumbs and playing with his hair in a nervous manner. Hawke couldn't fault him, she was twice the size of the dwarf and even she was shitting it.

"Ah, my right hand arrives! Here she is, Arishok! The deal can be done!" Javaris exclaimed at the sight of Hawke, feigning confidence in a manner only a business man could do.

The Arishok looked at Hawke with a silent disgust for a second, then turned his gaze back on the small redheaded dwarf.

Before Hawke or Javaris could speak, Fenris walked closer towards the huge Qunari leader, his face carved in polite seriousness.

"Arishokost, Marass Shakra anaara essam Qun," he recited from the top of his head, giving the Arishok a small bow as he did so.

All of the things that Hawke thought that she would see in her life, she did not once put a coin on one of those things being Fenris reciting the Qunari language to the Arishok. Fenris had never mentioned that he had even been among Qunari, let alone that he knew how to speak to them in their native tongue. It made her wonder what else Fenris knew that he hadn't told her.

The Arishok's expression seemed to match hers also, as he stared at Fenris for a moment in disbelief, shaking his head as he muttered more to himself than anyone else, "The Qun, from an elf, the madness of this place."

"Friend of yours?" Hawke asked, turning her head to the right to gaze at Fenris for a moment as she recovered from her moment of shock.

Fenris looked at her for a moment with a scowl, as if he was recalling something unpleasant.

"Friend of no one," he stated sombrely.

Javaris looked at the exchange between Hawke and Fenris and then turned back, the dwarf deeming it as nothing more than idle chatter, instead he turned his full attention back to the Arishok, flashing the giant what Hawke could only describe as the dwarf's selling smile. If she wasn't so on edge because of all the gigantic horned men and women walking around she would have laughed. Then again, as she looked around the compound she thought to herself _how can really you tell which gender's which?_

"Yes, well, that said, I am here to report to you my highly esteemed Arishok, that your hated Tal-Vashoth were felled one and all! Right? Yes they were," Javaris said confidently after Hawke gave him a swift nod of confirmation that the deed had indeed been done, "so that being said, I am open to negotiations for the explosive powder as we agreed!" the dwarf's voice became swiftly business like and Hawke for a moment admired the weasel of a dwarf merely for his business manner.

The Arishok looked at the dwarf for a moment in disgust, his nose flared up into the letter V as he spat out bluntly the word, "no."

The simple refusal seemed to throw Javaris off edge, and the once chatty dwarf had nothing to reply to so instead turn to Hawke, his voice panicky as he whispered in a hurried tone, "Make your chatty elf say something, he's not getting it."

Hawke looked at Fenris for a moment, considering asking for his aid. Fenris stared back at her for a moment, a slight grin on his face as if he knew what she was going to ask. She was already in a bad mood as it was, and things had become increasingly awkward between the both of them since she had tried to explain her feelings to him like a small child and now here he was with the corners of his mouth slightly turned up which was basically a smile for the broody elf looking at her smugly_. Oh no, she wasn't asking him for anything. _

"Arishok, may I ask why you do not wish to honour your deal with Javaris?" Hawke said, completely ignoring Fenris and turning to the Arishok. She could feel his glare burning into the back of her head, but she was feeling so sour today she just didn't care. _Maker, she really needed to vent her anger._

The Arishok stared at her for a moment making her stomach tense in anticipation.

"I have a growing lack of disgust for you, human. This dwarf imagined the deal for the Gaatlock, no bargain was struck. Instead, he invented a task to prove his worth when he has none," the Arishok replied, looking at Javaris as if he was nothing more than dirt on the ground.

"Then it seems we have wrongly intervened ourselves into your affairs, would you have us kill the dwarf?" Fenris interrupted before she could even speak. She turned for a moment to glare at him, only to bet met back with a glare just as icy. In the corner of her eye she noticed her brother gulp loudly; he knew her too well to know when she was in a bad mood and slowly becoming a ticking time bomb. Aveline however looked at her for a moment with concern and then turned her attention to Fenris, casting him narrowed eyes like a mother would do to the child that was bullying her own.

Hawke turned giving the Arishok her full attention, despite the pleas of desperation that Javaris had begun spilling out of his mouth. The Arishok looked at the dwarf for a moment again, with a face full of hatred as well as disgust.

"If you faced Tal Vashoth, he is not worthy of dying to you, just as he was not worthy to die to them," the Arishok replied in a stoic manner, "let him live… and leave,"

Hawke looked at the infuriated dwarf who stared at both Hawke and the Arishok in disbelief, he looked angry enough to pop every vein on his head but Javaris was not stupid nor was he brave and realised that he would be killed without a second's thought if he vented said frustrations.

"I think you better go, Javaris," Hawke said, nodding her head at the gates to the dwarf who didn't need any more encouragement to vacate the area. He scuttled out of the compound, muttering curses as he went.

The Arishok stared at Hawke for a moment, as if viewing her every weakness and strength, his black eyes glinting with curiosity and annoyance.

"You will leave too, human, there is nothing left for you here."

Hawke nodded her reply, bowing low to the Arishok before vacating the area with her companions. Once she was out of the compound a wave of relief hit her and she almost felt her previous mood simmer away. _Almost._

The silence as they journeyed to the Hanged Man was almost unbearable, thankfully, Aveline chose to intervene.

"It was a shame the Arishok did not seem in the talking mood, the Viscount is offering him supplies to build a ship back to Par Vollen," she said to Hawke, as they marched the mountain of stairs that lead to Lowtown.

"The Qunari will not leave," Fenris once again interrupted, bringing back Hawke's bad mood once again, she had almost forgotten how annoyed and hurt she had felt.

"They are just waiting for a ship to return them to their native land, Fenris," Aveline replied, her voice neutral as always.

"If they wanted to leave they would have by now, the fact they have not means there is something in this city that is holding them back; Qunari do not willingly stay in places such as this," Fenris replied, looking around the decaying steps as if that was enough evidence to back up his claim.

"What's wrong, Fenny, is this place just too dirty compared to your high class mansion?" Hawke interrupted, ready for an argument.

"No, I said for Qunari, Hawke, but then again you never listen, you're too busy listening to yourself. Kirkwall is everything the Qunari hate," Fenris spat back at her, obviously wanting an argument too.

"Sister, Fenris, I think that's enough," Carver said, trying to intervene and prevent an argument from happening. Hawke turned his attention to her little brother and realised that he was the source of her bad mood_. _

_If he had just stayed and remembered their father's birthday instead of trying to get into Merrill's knickers!_

"Oh shut up, Carver, do not try to be the voice of reason here," she spat at him, her anger bubbling from her stomach and to her throat, hateful words vomiting out of her before she could restrain them.

"Aria, calm down. What's gotten into you?" Carver asked incredulously, confused as to why she was so annoyed.

"Oh, are we chatting about things going in? Did you finally get in Merrill? Was it worth forgetting your own father's birthday?" Aria spat, her temper now uncontrollable. She ignored Aveline's gasp of shock as she glared at her brother who looked back at her in shock and annoyance.

Fenris had become silent, and had respectfully stepped out of the argument, of course she would deal with him later…

"I should have known! Of course you followed me! When do you not follow me?" Carver shouted, raising his arms as if asking the sky the questions rather than Hawke.

"I came across you whilst on my way to the Keep, you big headed prick! But seriously you're asking these questions? I am fucking older than you and you follow me around like I'm a fragile little flower about to be trampled on by fucking bad men!" Hawke almost screamed back, her fists curling up ready to punch her brother.

"This is not the point! So what, I went out for a picnic with Merrill on Father's birthday? Shall I stay stuck in the past with you sister forever? Shall I not find someone else who can have my heart or is my sole intention in this life following after you until I die? Because if it is, then I want out right now! Even Mother didn't mope around all day and she was married to him for twenty five years! It's just you and your hatred and you just can't let go! It's time to let it go!" her brother lectured, his voice not quite shouting but not at a speaking tone either.

Hawke grinded her teeth in annoyance, looking at her brother with furious eyes, Fenris and Aveline seemed almost dumbfounded and stood between the two viewing them as they tried to work out what to do. The normal method of letting Hawke and her brother punch it out seemed like the option they were taking.

"My past will follow me to the grave! I will not forget what happened; I will not let it go as easily as you!"

"Well, have fun with that, because I for one am done with it! You will die old and alone with your bitterness! And so it should be! It's like Isabela says, you sit there on your pedestal waving at us mere mortals! Well, you know what sister, I can see past your fucking smile and your stupid act and I know for a fact you're just fucking scared that everyone's going to realise what a miserable cow you are! And that is why you will die alone! Sometimes I think Beth should be still here and you should be up there with Father!" Carver spat, his fist clenching and his temper flying, rivalling her own.

At his words, her eyes watered. Maybe he was right, maybe she should be dead and the past with her. Maybe it would have been better, if her little sister –the ray of sunshine smiling flowers in her hair beautiful apostate child that everyone adored so much- was alive and she was long gone. A single tear shed from her eyes, and before anyone could even notice she took her leave, quickly climbing the remaining stairs as she left.

As if her mood had an effect on the weather, a heavy downpour began to hit the cobbles of Lowtown. In the distance, she could hear her brother shouting her name, but she just didn't care. She climbed the rooftops of Lowtown and sat down, letting the rain pour on her as stared into sky.

She had not meant for the argument to escalate, nor had she even meant to say such things to Carver. And yet, she said them on a daily basis and he smiled and took it and the quarrelled and fought and then they forgot it ever happened, at least she did. And Carver followed her into whatever situation she got herself into, no questions asked. He was much more of a brother to her; he was the only one she trusted, the only one who she felt free with. And yet she had become so accustomed to him being there for her, she had not realised that he had sacrificed much of his own life for hers.

She sighed, rubbing her temples and ignoring the tears that were running down her face, pretending that they were just droplets of rain. She needed alcohol to numb her feelings and hurt away and she knew exactly where to go for that, she thought to herself as she got up running across the rooftops and stopping when she got near the back of the Hanged Man.

She knocked on Varric's window three times, and waited for his code reply. Two knocks meant someone's here looking for you or come back later; three knocks meant how can I be of assistance?

A moment later three quiet taps replied, and she opened the window and entered Varric's private suite, her drenched armour soaking the wooden floors.

Varric looked up from where he was sat writing his novel, as he usually did on a Wednesday afternoon, his spectacles hanging onto dear life to his nose –of course, Varric didn't really need visual aids to help him see, he just thought they made him _look the part- _ and threw her a wicked grin.

"So, what's it going to be tonight, Hawke? Or should I say why have you come to steal my alcohol this time?" he asked, his smile never leaving his face as he looked her up and down. Of course, he couldn't tell she had been crying she was already covered in water.

"Strongest you got, and my dear brother has just been pondering whether the Maker does swapsies, see, he wants to trade me in for our dear younger sister since I'm getting annoying," Hawke cajoled, trying to make herself seem light so Varric wouldn't question what she was going to do after she drank. Varric didn't like leaving Hawke to drink on her own, but after she explained it was her way of dealing with things he had become a little bit more accepting. Except he asked her to not drink alone when she was depressed. And right now, she felt like if she could actually swap places with Bethany, she happily would.

"Shit, junior said that?" Varric said, shock colouring his usual playful disposition.

"Yeah, so if you don't mind, I would very much like to grab the drink and go, since this is the first place he'll come as soon as he's finished searching under the floorboards at Gamlen's," she replied, looking at the door hastily.

"No problem, Hawke, brandy is under my pillow take the lot and you can owe me one," he said, pointing to the grand four poster bed, a tender smile of knowing on his face, which was very rare for Varric.

"Aria?" a muffled shout from the drinking hall of the Hanged man simmered its way into the room. Varric and Hawke paused for a moment, staring at each other before Hawke decided a mad dash for it was the only way of escaping. She dove at the bed, grabbing the bottle of alcohol from under the pillow and jumped for the window without even so much as a goodbye to Varric, who had turned around to greet whoever was walking towards the door.

She free-fell in the air and greeted the ground with a loud smack of the force of her boots hitting the cobbled floors. She did not hesitate and pretended not to feel the pain around her toes as she jolted back up the rooftops and ran to her favourite sheltered spot so that she could watch the stars later on in the evening without the rain. She ran quickly to the small shelter, the place where she usually drunk without anyone ever finding her.

As she sat down she uncorked the bottle of brandy, taking a long pull on the drink as she looked at the grey clouds that towered over the city, unleashing their rain upon the citizens. If she made it home then she would make a mental note to speak to Fenris and apologise for the awkwardness between them… maybe even tell him that he wasn't obligated to stay because she batted her eyelids. Maybe, she could speak to Carver when she had calmed down, that was if she ever made it out of her little hidey-hole alive.

She should have just asked Fenris for his advice, instead of being so overly independent it could maybe one day cost her something more than a simple victory in an argument. She should learn to value her comrades, rather than thinking she was better than the rest… Carver was right…

After the fourth pull of the Brandy she felt quite numb and almost euphoric as she lay watching the rain pour over the City of Chains.

After the fifth, she started thinking about Fenris, and how she shouldn't have taken her anger out on him… and then she started agreeing with Isabela… he did have pretty eyes.

She laughed at the thought, drinking her brandy and ignoring the people who were calling for her. Just for a little while, she would pretend she wasn't Hawke today.

**A/N – So I just thought I'd inform you all that I am taking a short break during the festive season. I will be back, hopefully by the 5****th**** of January! I hope you all have an amazing christmas, and I will see you next year! **

**x**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23- Drunken confessions!**

**Thank you everyone for your support, your reviews, follows and favourites!**

**So… this is another Fenris chapter!**

**I will be closing act one up soon! Sorry guys, if I'm dragging let me know! Love you guys! **

**Enchantm3nt, you are amazing. You know this. **

**Lunaaa**

**X**

Fenris stormed into his mansion, completely drenched and extremely annoyed. His armour squeaked as he trudged up the stairs, water soaked through even to his undershirt as he made his way into his bed chambers. He yanked off his armour with practiced ease, letting it drop to the ground before grabbing a towel and drying himself off; he slipped into his leggings and tunic quickly before starting a fire with old, unused furniture he had in a pile by the mantle.

When the fire was strong enough to burn by itself, he threw the last remaining pieces of wood into it and grabbed one of the blankets, curling around himself as he grabbed one of the bottles of wine he kept under his bed, nursing the bottle as he thought.

He had not meant to be so rude to Hawke, nor had he meant for his temper to get the better of him. But her foul mood, much like her smile, was infectious, and he had snapped. He was truly sorry for snapping at her, but sometimes it felt that Hawke thought she could do everything herself and her little band of misfits were just there as her back up, nothing really worthy of helping the great Hawke. Nevertheless, nothing he had said to her was as cruel as what her own sibling had said, Fenris thought to himself as he began to tear the wrapper from the bottle of wine. At least Fenris' words were somewhat true and he had not just said them just to get at Hawke and win the argument. He frowned at the memory of Carver telling Hawke he wished she had died, instead of their younger sister. Carver was a good man, but sometimes he understood why Hawke hit her younger brother regularly.

Hawke was a good woman, a good friend… and he and Carver had basically partnered up against her just to best her at an argument. It was not his intention, for he hadn't even started the argument that fault lied with Hawke. And yet he felt guilty, as if he and Carver had torn her down with the intent on doing so.

He began to get frustrated with his thoughts and the bottle of wine's wrapper that refused to release itself from the bottle. He remembered one time he had failed to do so when getting Danarius another bottle of wine, how his master had smiled as he flicked his hand and the glass had smashed at his feet, how Danarius told him he had to pick each piece up with his mouth. His throat and mouth were cut and sore for days, and Danarius knew… oh the bastard knew because everything that Fenris ate for the rest of the week was covered in salt. He would smile as Fenris hissed in pain…

Fenris saw red, and launched the bottle at the wall between the two windows of the large bedroom. It shattered into pieces, making a brilliant sound as it did so. He stared at the wall for a minute, panting with the adrenaline rush, but before he could recover he heard a tap at the window.

Tap, tap, tap.

After the third tap, there was an abrupt silence and Fenris grabbed his sword instinctively at whatever was tapping at his window.

He arched the sword upwards, ready to swat at whatever foolish thing had decided to be the object on which he would be venting his anger out on tonight. He stood in silence for a moment, the pouring rain the only thing to be heard. He took a step closer to the window, his grip tightening on his sword but before he could even react the shutters blew open and Hawke jumped in, surveying him with what could only be described as an almost paralytic smile.

"You! I have a bone to pick with you!" she screeched in an almost joyful manner, staggering slightly as she tried to walk up to him. Normally, if Hawke was sober and she had said something along similar lines then Fenris' stomach would tighten and he would prepare for Hawke's wrath, but because Hawke was the drunkest he had ever witnessed her being, he almost found the sight of her comical.

"Are you sure you do not want to hit me when you can see straight, Hawke?" he asked her genuinely, lowering his sword and dropping it on the floor whilst he watched her sway from side to side as she attempted to look at him seriously but failed miserably.

"You have very pretty eyes," she murmured to herself, Fenris' sensitive elf ears the only reason he even heard it.

He froze at her observation, his stomach tied in knots as he looked at the drunken Hawke. Why was it whenever Hawke was drunk she seemed to be as open as Isabela? Of course, he wasn't comparing anything about Hawke to the pirate, they were completely different. Hawke seemed to be so intoxicated she was close to passing out to tell Fenris things like this, where Isabela told him on a regular basis.

He frowned at her for a moment, wishing for a second he could just read her thoughts, just for a moment to see if he could understand her any better. He looked at her as she confidently glided along the room and dropped herself on his bed. She laid there for a moment, smiling at him and his stomach knotted. She was absolutely soaked from the rain and if Fenris hadn't found himself completely speechless by the drenched woman in his bed smiling at him widely, he would have requested that she got off his bed before he forced her to.

"Hawke, how much have you had to drink?" he asked her, eyeing her smile with a suspicious glare.

"Well, I'd say there's about two fifths of this brandy left, shame really I only got it a few hours ago…" she said, retrieving the bottle of brandy from maker knows where, and showing him it like she was presenting him a trophy.

"Do you often decide that binge drinking is the right way to go about your problems?" he questioned her with a severe tone, knowing full well that she would not have got so drunk if it weren't for the incident that had happened earlier on. He mentally cursed Carver Hawke, for if he had just kept his mouth closed and let Hawke have her rant, then maybe all they would have been dealing with was a busted nose each and to buy Hawke a drink or two.

"Only when I remember things that I am better off forgetting, Fenny," she smiled, sitting up on the bed and steadying herself just before she nearly fell off.

"Hawke, come sit by the fire you're drenched and will most likely get cold," he ordered, looking at her soaking hair as she sat on the edge of the bed, still grinning in an almost docile manner. He didn't know what to think of absolutely drunk Hawke, but he had a feeling she could be twice as annoying as sober Hawke.

"You're okay Fenny-Fen, I have my magic potion that Varric gave me!" she said, opening the cork to the bottle of brandy.

Before she could take a sip, Fenris stepped forward, his arm outstretched as he said, "Hawke, you've had enough, give me the brandy,"

"Why don't you come and take it off me?" she asked, her grin growing into a wide smile.

What was this? Hawke was his friend and she had done nothing to suggest otherwise, apart from that night when she had once again overstepped her limit had she even shown any advances on him. Was this some sort of game? Did drunk Hawke do this to all the males in the group? Is that why the abomination looked at her wistfully and was always first to put a mug of ale in her hand whenever the dwarf hadn't gotten there first. He just didn't know, and yet he didn't want to question it, in an odd way he revelled in the knot in his stomach, the feeling that was exceptionally wrong and right all at the same time.

"I don't understand how you even made it to my home so drunk," he said, looking up at the ceiling hoping someone or something would save him right now.

"Well, I was sober when I was at the Amell estate, then I climbed here downed more of the potion and ta-da Hawke that isn't a nasty pasty and is as merry as a drunken sailor!" she explained, putting the bottle down as Fenris had distracted her from drinking it. He looked at her for a moment, wondering how much more it would take for her to pass out, and how much vomit would be involved in the matter.

"Indeed. And what is going to happen when you sober up? Are you going to tell your brother that you are actually alive?" Fenris asked her, whilst still offering her his hand.

Her grin flashed off her face in almost an instant at his words, a dark expression replacing it as she stared at him with a feral expression in her eyes. He cursed himself as he stared into the mage's eyes, as the shivers that ran down his spine felt almost electric as he stared at her. He didn't understand, nor did he want to. He would just enjoy the feeling and not fall into the trap that she unintentionally laid for the weak. He would not be weak.

"As if he even cares if I'm alive, don't you recall what that moron said back there? And don't say he was just angry, Fenny, I see it in their eyes all the time. Whenever they speak about Bethany, they look at me and I can tell! I can see it don't you worry, Fenny, I know they wish it was me," she laughed, coldly and pulled on the large bottle of brandy again.

Fenris cursed himself for bringing Carver into the conversation; he should have known it would just cause her to indulge herself in more alcohol.

"What is it going to take for you to stop drinking that?" he asked, seriously and then instantly regretted it as Hawke grinned at him menacingly.

"To what extent would you go to stop me from getting absolutely off my daggers, Fenny?" she said, a grin playing on her lips that made Fenris' stomach drop.

"Enough to make sure you didn't become nothing more than a pile of vomit, but first I'm curious and you're in a talkative mood, why do you have to get intoxicated to be yourself?" Fenris asked, wondering if she would give him an honest answer.

"Because there is too much hate bubbling in my body and I find alcohol flushes out the hate and replaces it with intoxication and I like it; it feels fuzzy and warm and I don't feel things anymore," she said, honesty ringing in her words. It made him wonder what he would be like if drank too, of course he had indulged in a bottle of wine on an evening but that had given him a warm feeling and nothing more. In truth he had never really drank to become extremely drunk, he had always drunk enough to make him merry and still be able to string coherent sentence. And yet…

"I'll drink it all in one go and then you'll have nothing left to drink," he said, forcing himself out of his thoughts to look back at her. She must have thought it was an excellent idea, because as soon as he had said it she had almost thrown the bottle at him, her eyes looking at him expectedly with a glint of excitement underlining them. He didn't understand the excitement, but Hawke was infectious and suddenly he felt it too, the excitement and the childishness of drinking with the intent of getting so drunk you couldn't really care anymore.

He took the bottle gingerly, automatically regretting his proposal. He looked at Hawke's playful face and suddenly he realised it didn't bother him that much, she was smiling and no longer looked like a feral animal caught in a trap, he would regret it tomorrow but for today he was content that his friend was no longer in such a sour mood.

He put the brandy to his lips, prayed to whatever entity that was out there watching the moment that he would survive the drinking, -for he knew that Hawke would soon find his wine collection and move onto that- and began to pull on the bottle full of honey coloured liquid. It scorched his throat as he carried on pulling, his throat protesting as he dragged down the firey warm liquid. The warmth spread to his abdomen as the brandy sloshed in his stomach.

He threw the bottle to the ground and a for a second he felt nothing but the brandy sloshing around in his stomach, then in what seemed like minutes the brandy spread, it's warmth speeding through his veins and straight to his head.

_Making him extremely drunk._

He lowered himself to the floor, expecting himself to be acting just as Hawke did, when in fact he felt nothing but warmth. It flushed in his cheeks and his veins and everything felt much more empathised, like he could feel each grain of the wood flooring that his buttocks sat on, he could see the dust motes in the barely lit room as they seemed to dance around much more slower. But apart from that he felt somewhat normal, if not feverish from speaking with Hawke.

_Hawke._

And that was when he knew the alcohol in his body was creeping up on him; he knew it was a silent tsunami because he looked at her but saw her differently. He didn't understand, but as he looked at her and saw that she looked back in the same feverish way, the hairs on his arm seemed to stand still.

He didn't understand her, he wished he did. Were they friends? It seemed she did it unintentionally, yet she was a master at stirring feelings he could not recall ever having. He found himself watching her when she didn't notice; he glared when the abomination got to touch her for his so called medical reasons, the way she smiled at the dwarf and the way she walked. She stood out, she made a statement without even having to try and he realised he admired her.

Were they just friends? Was the alcohol making him overthink, maybe Hawke was like this with most of the males and that is why they sought her attention so? Hawke was mysterious, attractive and he didn't doubt that she knew it. His eyes flashed up to hers, as he looked at them he felt as if he was being dragged back into the jungles of Seheron, where for the first time he was safe… she felt safe.

"How are we doing, Fenny?" she asked, a laugh escaping her lips as she found one of the bottles of wine he had planned on drinking alone later on in the evening. His process of thought had become slightly delayed and for a second he stared at her as she stared back. The air around him seemed to be disappearing, he sucked in a much needed breath and replied "I am tepid, Hawke and yourself?"

She opened the wrapper to the wine with great ease to his annoyance, and proceeded to drink it much like she had with the brandy, after taking several pulls she offered him the wine and where normally he would decline, the jittery feeling in his stomach made him accept it.

"So, Fenny if someone told you six months ago you would be sat in your own mansion drinking with a secret apostate would you rip their heart out? Would you? I bet you would!" she exclaimed, grabbing the wine back and swigging it vigorously.

"I suppose I would have laughed at them, but maybe if they foretold me of the woman I would meet, I wouldn't have laughed so much," he replied truthfully, and it was indeed the truth, Hawke was a force to be reckoned with in all aspects.

"Oh? Is that because you males cannot believe that I am a woman, so have made me sound quite the butch lesbian?" she asked, her eyebrow raised at him quizzically.

"I do not see why they do such a thing, beautiful women are a force to be reckoned with," he said, his thoughts escaping before he could piece them together, his self-control and barriers were gone and it felt odd to be relieved of them.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"You think I have pretty eyes?"

"Touché, Fenny."

She took a swig of the wine again, this time a much deeper pull than before as if she was trying to distract herself from the conversation. She passed him the wine and began to stare at the floor, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to say something, he blinked at the thought it was as if the alcohol had given him the ability to read her on a better level, as if them both being intoxicated made themselves understand each other a little better.

"What is troubling you, Hawke?" he asked, he was concerned for how the alcohol was meddling with his self-control; he felt like a puppet with alcohol pulling his strings.

"What troubles you, Fenny?" she quipped back sarcastically, and for a while they sat facing each other with nothing but the light of the fire and an occasional crackle filling the room. He looked at her for a moment, and in her drunkenness he saw she looked almost sad. She seemed deep in thought, but when he looked back at her again he saw that whatever she was thinking about made her brows crease and her lips mash together.

"Things, Hawke. I imagine I would appear preposterous if I was just troubled by thin air," he replied, a sloppy smile riddled on his face as she glared at him. He knew that glare well, for truth be told –or alcohol be told, as it had hit him like a ton of dwarven stone- he glared at her in the same manner most of the time. It was a small comfort that she found him just as frustrating at times. He wondered if this would all be forgotten tomorrow. He wanted to remember it, he wanted to remind himself to let it slip to the dwarf that they got incredibly intoxicated and she spent the evening there knowing full well he would tell the abomination and he would have a fit. Fenris smiled to himself at the thought, but snapped his view back to Hawke who was looking at him deep in thought.

"I propose a trade of troubles, you tell me yours and I'll tell you one of mine," she said, her tone business like as if she was bartering with a merchant in Lowtown rather than a friend. He raised his eyebrow at her as he debated. On one side, Fenris hated speaking of himself rather he be the one that listened than be the speaker of the group and yet the other side seemed somewhat appealing, not many, it seemed, knew Hawke's tale or how she came to be as she was, normally he would frustratingly decline, but with his new found confidence he decided the deal was acceptable and nodded in acceptance.

He looked at the floorboards for a moment, examining the small dark veins that ran down in in their thousands, creating the pattern in the wood. He took a deep breath in, and readied himself for the onslaught of her disgust and his shame.

"So many to choose from, Hawke that is the problem. My former master had an apprentice, her name was Hadriana. And every time I say that bitch's name I can feel the bile oozing from my stomach," he growled, accepting the bottle of wine once again, and examining the dark green glass as he thought of how he could word such vile things to her.

"I can tell you and she were not on good terms," Hawke replied, her tone light as if she could sense the mood darkening.

"That is an understatement to say the least, Hadriana hounded me, she tried to make me her own but I would not bend to her and Danarius didn't like how she looked at me. But because she could not have me, she hounded my sleep, made me eat pitiful scraps in a bowl like an animal. Hate is not the right word to describe my emotions toward her, for it is something much deeper than that, it burns in my very soul," he said, as he stroked the wine bottle before taking a long drink.

"There was a slave that had been assigned to Hadriana, a small human girl which wasn't that rare in Tevinter, they bind even their own. She would tend to the witch's every need, never complaining when Hadriana viciously took her frustrations out on her. One day, the girl found out that she had magic and not only that but that it came to her naturally, magisters do not like to cage those who they can mould into their own filth. But Hadriana was scared, she saw the look in Danarius's eyes as he stared at the slave girl who had more skill in her thumb than Hadriana, and she knew her master would surely replace her with this slave without hesitation," he continued, his grip on the bottle tightening, threatening to shatter it into tiny pieces at the memory.

"It seems magisters have no quarrels with just replacing people like they are broken vases," Hawke spat, reaching for the bottle. Her fingers ever so slightly brushed against his own and a warm feeling spread around his cheeks and ears. He blushed, but thanked whatever entity was out there that in the warm glow of the fire Hawke did not notice.

"Indeed, that night I was being punished for not beating one of the other slaves hard enough, so instead of sleeping in the bedrooms with Danarius, I was made to sleep in the cells with the other slaves, when I heard agonizing screams. This was not uncommon, but yet the screams haunted me and without even thinking I followed the screams to Hadriana's study and when I opened the door,, there was nothing left of the girl, just her innards and blood. Hadriana had killed her out of pure jealousy," he spat the last bit, hating that he had to keep saying her name.

He looked at Hawke, who stared at him with knowing eyes. He was not finished with his tale and she knew it.

"She caught me staring, and turned to me with the slave girl's heart still in her hand and commanded that I eat it. She said I had been starved for three days now and she was being _kind_ enough to offer me some nutrition. I refused, so she summoned Danarius.. She knew I would tell of what she had done if my Master asked me, and she explained everything that she did and what she wanted me to do, and he looked at her not in disgust, but pure affection and agreed to her request. I was forced to eat her heart, and I will never forget it. It is burned into my soul. _That_ is why I will take great pleasure in cutting that witch down and all the other bastard magisters with her. May they rot with their darkspawn legacy!" his voice had become a loud feral growl, he bared his teeth like a wolf ready to strike.

Hawke sat opposite him, her eyes slightly bigger watching his outburst but she did not move or falter. He took a few deep breaths and grabbed another bottle of wine that he kept near the fireplace; it felt good to vent the anger at something. For too long he waited in the darkness stewing on the memories that haunted him.

"And that Hawke, is one of my many troubles. What do you when you stop running? That will always be my question, for I am nothing but a fighter, I know little more than the slicing of cold steel on skin. But before my temper becomes the better of me, before the wolf inside eats me alive you said this was a trade did you not? Distract me from this hate for a little while," he spat, ripping the wrapper of the wine off in one go and downing the wine as if he was a man dying of thirst.

"Well, if we're going for distraction Fenris…" she replied, a coy grin on her face as she winked at him.

"You are very amorous after a drink, Hawke, have you noticed that?" he said, looking at her in confusion, "yet when you are sober you are as closed as a book on a shelf. Care to share why that is?"

"The alcohol washes away my fear. You're easier to be myself with, rather much like my brother," she replied, her features mashing together in annoyance at the mention of her brother.

"What do you have to fear? Also, I very much doubt you would flirt with your own sibling, Hawke," he said, his tone serious as he looked at the woman as she wrinkled her nose, he knew by now she did this whenever she felt uncomfortable, it was endearing.

"No, Fenny, that's reserved for you only, it seems. And I will warn you once and once only: I will tell you only what I wish to,; you may ask my dear sibling what happens when people ask me to disclose things I don't want to speak of. They are mine to tell when I am ready," she said, her tone serious as she looked at him with bright eyes. Hawke's eyes glowing bright empathised every word she said. "But we _did_ have a trade…"

She took a large gulp of what was left of her bottle of wine and took a deep breath, as if was truly difficult to say what she wanted to. It seemed odd to find someone else in the same boat as he, especially when through the day when they worked together Hawke was one of the chattiest people he had ever met.

"Back when I was thirteen, nearly fourteen, my life was pretty normal – I lived with ,other, father and both of my siblings in a quaint little cottage on the outskirts of Lothering away from the Templars, not that there were very many in Lothering anyway. My father, he – one night he appeared in my dreams, panicked, begging for my help. He was outside somewhere, so I fled my bedroom in the middle of the night and found him, half-dead in the fields, shot with an arrow laced with magebane. He was dying… there was _nothing_ I could do, nothing any of us could do. We got him inside, expecting him to die within a few hours at most – we were all there, at his side, he was in agony but he was too stubborn, too strong to die – he held on for four days. And I stayed at his side, reading to him. The twins just thought he was sick, too young to understand what was really happening.

"By the third day my father was delirious, lost to hallucinations and waking nightmares. My mother's singing seemed to be the only thing that calmed him, and then on the fourth day, he died. He took an arrow protecting us – the Templars were looking for mages, for apostates, they knew about us, and they found _him_. He should have run but he didn't. He died to keep us safe, to protect us. A part of me died with him that day, I swore I would protect the rest of my family, keep them from harm, but I failed. Bethany died. It was my fault. I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, she cast her spell at the ogre, protecting mother and then it just… picked her up like she was a ragdoll and crushed her," she said shakily. "It should have been me," she finished, staring down at her hands; she brought her legs up to her chest, hugging herself close, her eyes lost in a sad haze.

"I did not know your father, nor your sister, but I am certain they would not believe that for a second. You father died to save you, and your sister sounds brave, protecting your mother like that."

She gave him a feeble nod. "They were always so selfless. Bethany took after father the most, he taught her so well." She sniffed and let out a long sigh. "I miss them," she admitted quietly before burying her head on her knees.

He shuffled closer to her, not so close as to touch her, but enough to make her feel… well, he hoped it was a comfort, either way. Fenris did not know what it was like to watch a loved one die – but thoughts of Hawke dying stirred something deep in his chest, an ache of sorts; he could imagine how painful it would be to lose someone you cared for. There was sadness in Hawke's eyes, more sorrow than he ever would have believed possible, but there was anger too and a cold hatred that burned within her, a hatred he was knew intimately.

_You know nothing of me, therefore my knowledge of slavery is also unknown to you._

Her words. Spoken to him weeks ago. Echoing through his alcohol fogged mind. Panic clasped his heart as realisation began to set in. There was more that she was not telling him.

"You said they knew about you, the Templars. Surely they did not stop their hunt after finding your father?" he asked carefully, watching her as the shadows from the fire danced across her curled up form.

She didn't reply and he frowned slightly. "Hawke?" he asked quietly. Soft snoring was his reply; she had finally passed out from the alcohol. He smiled slightly and then grabbed a blanket and gently put it over her shoulders and coaxed her down on the rug by the fire; he settled next to her and slowly drifted off to sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**The final piece to the puzzle. **

**Well, this is my last Hawke dream and then I will be concluding act one! **

**The lullaby belongs to Billy Joel, and even though it's depressing I think it's rather sweet. It's called Goodnight my angel, also the fairy song is from Shakespeare a midsummer's night dream, Jabbawocky of course belongs to Lewis Carrol, from his book through the looking glass and Emily Dickinson's poem, he fumbles at your spirit. The last poem is of course an old favourite of mine, it's orange and lemons. I do not own any of these! This chapter is a bit mad... but you do not have to read these chapters, Hawke gives a brief explanation later on!**

**I want to thank you guys for your reviews/follows/favourites, please if you have anything you would like to see or any suggestions feel free to message me! I will reply as soon as I can. **

**I'm currently playing through Inquisition, but I have been giving up what little free time I have to write this and will continue to write it until it's complete! **

**Thank you guys so much, and of course a huge thank you for my beta enchantm3nt! You're so ace!**

**X**

_Goodnight, my angel _  
_Now it's time to sleep _  
_And still so many things I want to say _  
_Remember all the songs you sang for me _  
_When we went sailing on an emerald bay _  
_And like a boat out on the ocean _  
_I'm rocking you to sleep _  
_The water's dark _  
_And deep inside this ancient heart _  
_You'll always be a part of me _

_Goodnight, my angel _  
_Now it's time to dream _  
_And dream how wonderful your life will be _  
_Someday your child may cry _  
_And if you sing this lullaby _  
_Then in your heart _  
_There will always be a part of me_

My mother's voice hums in the darkest corners of my mind, and even though I know what dreadful things will occur, I feel somehow at peace. The lullaby makes my entire body numb and I try to fight back the sad tears that roll off my face like droplets of morning dew. The smallest mercy of my mother's voice lulling me to my final sleep restores some faith I had.

I am tied, my arms and legs stretched into a ready spider's web, I am merely waiting for the flies to come. The madmen are shuffling, whispering and clanking glass together I can feel their stares like pricks of a needle on my naked flesh.

I had not heard of such magic, not even in theory until he told me. I doubt even father knew, or maybe he did but knew how revolting the irony was. Would their pilgrimage be a success? Would I hunt down my own sister? My own little sister, bursting with pride as she made fire dance around her fingertips, would I kill her with my own magic, so much more aged then her own?

"Eric, I would exercise caution here, hold the magic within the borders discussed, Alix you will manage your mages and make sure that the processes are acute; this moment has taken thirteen years of my valued time and effort and I cannot afford another failure, our cause is clearer than it has ever been," a voice drones from the room, and I can hear more shuffling but I relinquish all ties and holds I have of this world; Thedas is gone.

_You spotted snakes with double tongue, _  
_Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; _  
_Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, _  
_Come not near our fairy Queen._

Father's voice booms, reciting the old poems we translated from the Dalish; it drowns out the whirring of mechanisms and the clanks of potions meeting mouths. The words reverberate into my skull and I keep my eyes tight and closed.

_I'm sorry, mother, for the time I set fire to Bethany's new dress that took you weeks to make. I'm sorry for the cruel things I said when Tamlen offered to take me away. I'm sorry I set fire to our neighbours shed when his son teased Carver. I'm sorry for not saving Father in time. I'm sorry for everything._

_Weaving spiders, come not here; _  
_Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence. _  
_Beetles black, approach not near; _  
_Worm nor snail do no offence._

The poetry falters, the lullabies ebb away. And the silence is deafening, my breath the only thing I can hear. They are poised, quiet and ready like predators watching their prey with a ready mind.

"Then let us begin," a conclusion I had already come to terms with long ago.

A tsunami of magic whirrs around the room, it hits with no warning, crashing in violent waves, with small pricks on my hands and the noise is deafening. Incantations are muttered, bottles are clanking and I hear the bubble of something molten from a far distance. Small pricks turn into stabs and stabs turn into bludgeoning, hammering, forcing it's will into my bones, shattering each joint in its wake.

Images, flashes, knowledge billowing into my head repeating one after the other again and again, my head's too full, it's getting crammed, stuffed and pushed until I scream because there surely can't be any space left.

_A woman with a staff, throwing it out right and then onto the ground, a small incantation summoning a wave of flames, burning those who stand in her way, a man raising his staff to the sky, flipping it to the ground as he mutters his words, and the rain falls to his power._

It's itchy, it's all so itchy. I want to scratch through my flesh and rip out my muscle and cave my own skull in with my bare hands. It is too hot, my mind is far too hot, I let out a scream of my frustration, my skull feels like each incantation is being scribed onto it, they keep flashing in me, a hundred times they've flashed and I know each one off by heart as if I've burned it to my very soul.

_A Dalish Pariah, standing in the clearing, her attackers come closer and she stamps her staff onto the ground, muttering as she does so. Eight stamps later and the rock jumps out of the ground as if she was a beacon, shielding her from harm. The arrows bounce off her with ease. A witch of the wilds, fleeing her pursuers, she flips her staff and whispers, a bright light and the woman is no more, a bear where she had stood._

I struggle, writhing and itching and it burns. I cry out for mother and for father, the need to scratch and rip and tear at my own skin erupting in my mind like a volcano.

_"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!_  
_ The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_  
_Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun_  
_ The frumious Bandersnatch!"_

Father's voice booms, but it does not belong to father. I can feel its need, its desire. Tis beckoning me forward like a beacon the demon with his voice. It lures and hopes that I will give in to its lullabies, caressing and me speaking to me as if were my own father.

_The Dalish, the Templars, the silence, the smite the never ending divide. The Fade and the spirits and the demons and the darkspawn and the taint, a young woman with wicked yellow eyes flashing sharp fangs as she hits her staff, a dragon rising in the sky as it is lit with fire. Pride, desire, envy, despair, fear and hunger ravaging the mortal plains, living in husks and burning down the towns as abominations. The Chantry and the Tranquil, the glowing lights of the Circles, the Harrowing and the demons and the slaughter and the just and the needed and the ice, the ice that freezes and stops everything in its wake. She looks upon her captors with a knowing glare and her staff strokes the floor and summons so much ice. A woman stabbed by a sword, a man in robes with a blue light emitting from his hands moving them up and down the wound and knitting the flesh together, the warrior will live another day._

It hurts so much, I cannot take it anymore.

_He fumbles at your spirit_

_As players at the keys_

_Before they drop full music on;_

_He stuns you by degrees,_

_Prepares your brittle substance_

_For the ethereal blow,_

_By fainter hammers, further heard, _

_Then nearer, then so slow._

My breathing hitches and I ache for it to stop, for an end. My mind burns and blazes the knowledge they force upon me is too much for anyone to know. I can feel it burning in my veins and my bones; I can feel the fire twitch in my fingers as they struggle to scratch the itching in my brain. There isn't enough room, my mind is far too small and so old memories die out like an ending candle, long gone are days of summer.

I try to remember, I hold on to them. Mother and father and the lullabies, my brother and my sister, yet I can't remember their names, their faces are ebbing away until there is nothing left but four grins, I hold onto the grins, I try to hold them tight. My skull cracks, it is too much.

I cannot bring myself to open my eyes anymore, Aria Hawke is dying and I have failed her. I feel heat, molten and the harsh breath of whoever is coming close to me. Heat sieges and burns as the hot metal makes contact with my skin. I scream out, and the torture goes on once more.

_Here comes a candle to light you to bed,_  
_And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!_

The dominoes fall one by one, crashing inside my mind. It hurts to think, to breathe or to move. The restraints tighten at my struggles until I become rigid. My heart is pounding loudly, a dramatic percussion to build up to the ending note that is death.

"Healing! She requires healing!" someone shouts.

Time has no footing here, its usual linear lines become obtuse and upside down. I can feel their advances, the cleansing aura and the flickers of blue invading my closed eyelids.

_Over hill, over dale, _  
_Thorough bush, thorough brier, _  
_Over park, over pale, _  
_Thorough flood, thorough fire! _  
_I do wander everywhere, _  
_Swifter than the moon's sphere. _

The itching and the burning saturates into every follicle of my hair and I want to rag it out as the magic does its work to save me so their ill intentions can be completed.

A cymbal crashes, a dramatic finish and my heart finishes its melody and the darkness drags me down, my body going limp in applause.

_Chip chop Chip chop the last man is dead._

Light pours through my eyelids and into my very soul, and the pain subsides for a moment. I do not open my eyes; they are too hard to open. A familiar voice speaks, and I feel as if it is déjà vu, this voice speaks with no ill intentions of that of a demon.

"_And, as in uffish thought he stood,_  
_ The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,_  
_Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,_  
_ And burbled as it came!_

_One, two! One, two! And through and through_  
_ The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_  
_He left it dead, and with its head_  
_ He went galumphing back."_

I open my eyes and I see the familiar splay of stubble and eyes of bright green, before I can say anything my eyes bolt shut and something drags me back, drags me back to where I came.

The room is dingy and the voices erupting are loud and full of panic, the healing magic is bubbling, coursing onto my skin, tickling at the itches. A realisation hits me quite suddenly, an epiphany whilst the mad men panic; I open my eyes.

There are scores of them, jumping around each other like skittish animals. An old voice barks orders in the shadows and dwarves stir a molten pot, the mages pour their depleting mana into my body, healing it to the best of their skills. The itching stops in their panic, they think I am dead and gone, the restraints looser than they have been since it started. I know this could be my chance.

This shall end, be in it blood or fire.

_She holds the fire in her hands and it entwines in her fingers, she giggles feverish and looks up at me with a smile full of pride. _

The fire burns and hurts my already sore skin, but it cuts the bindings of my hands with ease, the small flames race down and make quick work of my feet and I fall to the floor, silencing the shouting with a large thud.

I force myself to stand up, to look at the mad men who stare at me with shocked eyes and I can see it in their faces that they mean to restrain me and begin their wicked games again.

No more.

_The woman grips her staff, throwing it out right and then onto the ground, a small incantation summoning a wave of flames, burning those who stand in her way. _

I do not have a staff though I know it is possible without one, I copy the movements plastered in my mind and the fire rages into a tall tower that I command forward. It flashes forward and takes the mages with one hiss, they scream and panic and run around like chickens who have been beheaded, but the fire does not relent, it does not stop and I do not want it to. It follows and seeks, it finds those who try to run and it condemns them to its flame.

The itching starts to burn, but I push past it. The voice, the voice that woke me up with its poetry I know that voice and it wants me to get out of here, I just know that it does.

_Templars, shields ready and the lyrium that dances in their muscle tissue excitedly, they are ready to silence and smite. _

I stamp my foot, repeating the movements that have been replayed in mind and the ground quakes, throwing them off balance and onto the floor, their shields cannot protect them from the anger of the ground, they try to get up but each quake knocks them back.

_Pride, desire, envy, despair, fear and hunger, they ravage the mortal plains._

I can taste blood magic as it oozes across the quakes but it cannot touch me, the call of a demon will never aid me. I spit the magic out, I repel it with my own burning aura.

He steps out of the shadows, his eyes of molten steel; warm and cold.

These are not just men; these are mad men who do not deserve the pity of me, or the Maker or the Chantry or whatever creature lives or breathes. The falling Templars become ice, and I shatter them with a flick of a hand, it is nothing to me now. How ironic that their own cause will be their own undoing, their own creation rebelling against them in such a way to murder them.

_Carver, Bethany, Mother, Father… Spike the mabari, panting in the summer's breeze as we take a picnic on one of the fields._

It creeps back on me, but I push it away, fighting it so I may end this once and for all.

The dwarves who stirred their molten brew so eagerly become its first victims, the quake sends the stirring cauldron flying and the dwarves burn at its touch, skin melting into muscle and muscle burning into burns until they become nothing more than a melting pile of screams. Redemption is a lost cause, for they did not seek redemption upon the crimes they have committed to me.

The three remaining Templars try to drain my power, but they are weak and tired whereas I am healed and strong. Two of them seem to realise that is nought but a lost cause, and flee the scene, a sickly face looking at me for a moment before exiting the room quickly, crying for reinforcements.

The older man with the steel eyes looks at me in terror and disappointment, a tear streaming down his eye. I know him now, I remember him.

Derek.

I run towards him with vicious intent; he was the creator of this pilgrimage. So many have died tonight for his cause and his belief and his need. He will be trialled by my hand; I will be the judge and the jury.

I am met with a force of collision, the other Templar defending his master to the end, a shield bashes me and knocks me back; I fall to the floor and I feel my ribs crack in protest. He stands, towering over me, the younger Templar with his sword drawn and a look of pure pleasure scribed on his face.

I remember him; he defiled my body with the others. He threw me to the floor once he was spent. The sword looms over my face and before it can meet its target, I roll onto my left, the clang of metal meeting what was once quaking stone a relief that I am not dead yet.

I grab one of the fallen Templars swords, and without a moment of hesitation I thrust it into the gap of his codpiece, stabbing him in the groin. He keels over and whines like a wounded dog, but I do not pity him for a second, in fact I pull the sword out and stab it into his face with a force I had not thought possible.

I turn to my creator, the man who so much wanted a better way, a curable option for the plague that are apostates. He looks at the world and those who were born of magic as a sin, a parasite yet he welcomes it with open arms for his cause. Magic made me. I walk towards him and his eyes are worried, scared and panicked yet he does not run. He stands amongst the burning room, his eyes glowing in the fire and drinks in the sight of me. I have forgotten I was naked, long past the dignity that is the norm.

I see my reflection in his eyes, my face thin and drawn and my hair blood stains in its glittering ivory, burnt around the edges and knotted all over, naked and stood looking at him like a predator. Much like they had looked at me one time.

"You would have been so beautiful, Aria," he whimpers like a forlorn artist, who mixed the wrong paint on his canvas.

"I thought I was a subject designed from your warped ideas?" I ask, my voice is broken and thick, yet I know it's mine.

"I am sorry," he says and for a moment I wonder if his apologies are genuine, or merely the act of a cornered animal.

My doubt causes my failure, and his dagger flies quickly, hitting my upper thigh with ease. I howl in pain and look at him with feral determination. He will not have the final laugh, this will not be my ending tune, I will have my encore before this day is through. I grab the dagger, pulling it out quickly and it burns, hot blood leaks down my leg and dances down to my toes.

I run towards him, the pain pushed in the back of my mind as the adrenaline rush takes hold; I knock him backwards with what little strength I have and he staggers, not able to stop the dagger from reaching him.

"Fuck you," I hiss blasphemous words at him, knowing they will be the last that he hears. How will his Maker judge him, when he has been tainted by my words?

The fire crackles on, the corpses are piled and dotted around the room, scores of the dead and yet the fire is still famished, it creeps up the walls and burns the beams, I stand in the middle of the burning building as it falls, stone crashing to the floor as the fire ravages its supporting beams.

I am thankful for the end, and I pray that it comes quick, I was the noose for mad men, but I face my own tribunal in the afterlife, for I am tainted by the desires of wicked men.

The walls shatter and my eyes close.

…

Beams of light shine bright into the wreckage where I have been laid for what seems like ages, and I open my eyes to see the light of the morning peering through the trees. I am outside now; it seems that the prison in which I was held in has been torn down overnight, my lack of control burning the place down brick by tainted brick. Everything that was in there perished, apart from me it seems. Sunlight is one of the greatest things to ever grace this world to me right now, and I move the bricks and debris that cover me, thankfully I am not impaled or damaged to the point of no repair. It is difficult to stand as my leg is incredibly sore, the debris of the wreckage has broken my ankle, I've been hit in the head with something also; I can feel the dampness of fresh blood.

Shouts emit from the woods, and I hear the clink of familiar armour approaching the burned down house, my stomach dropping in panic. I limp as fast as my naked body is able to move and hide behind the nearest trees, praying the foliage will protect me from whoever comes. The land smells familiar, of woodland flowers and moss, elfroot and embrium.

I hide behind the tree and watch for the ones who approach, already knowing who the shouts belong to before they even come close.

The two Templars that fled appear, Eric and Alrik; the ones who raped me and passed me around like I was a bottle of wine amongst friends. My breathing hitches with anticipation as the two heavily armoured men inspect the scene, looking for survivors or maybe even tomes on the experiment they had attempted. A small voice concludes that they are probably looking for me but I quell it as I attempt to steady my breathing.

It gives me some relief to see the two men are in no fit state to fight, they are covered in bruises and burns, Eric not even able to hold his shield properly.

"They're all fucking dead, all of them!" Alrik cries into the wilderness, tossing his shield and sword to the ground in his despair.

"What of her?" Eric asks, scanning the trees close by, our eyes meet and my body freezes in shock. He stares at me for a moment, considering his options it seems.

Feral growls erupt from behind me and I swivel my head round to be greeted by a pack of wolves, yet their animosity is not for me, it is for the Templars that threaten me. I feel their souls, they echo in the woods like a breeze. They are here to protect me, as if I am one of their own.

He looks at the wolves and then back at me, the first Templar I met, the first one to defile me. The memories are coming back; everything is coming back. Instead of alerting his comrade and engaging me and the wolves in battle, he smiles.

He smiles just like he did that day we met.

"We _will_ meet again_."_ He mouths the words slowly, savouring every syllable.

The wolves snap their jaws and growl as if they too understand his words, and I watch the two Templars leave as the wolves surround me, licking my wounds and picking debris from my hair. I do not question them, for I am too thankful for their existence.

A small part of my being wants to pursue the men, to conclude the episode that happened here; I fear that I will regret letting them depart later on.

I look at the wolves and stroke the soft grass with my bruised and damaged toes, freedom feels good it is strange that before I took it as a novelty. And yet I feel tainted, cursed and broken. What do I do now? The magic that swells in my body and my mind is too difficult to control, they knew that and I do not have the strength to be a mage any longer.

Magic has cursed me to this predicament.

My soul is long gone, dragged down by the mad men as they burnt and fell into the pits of hell. I fear I cannot rebuild what they have destroyed.

I sigh as the wolves lay around me to keep my freezing body warm, the breeze caresses my face and I realise that today is a good day to at least be alive.

_Chip chop Chip chop the last madman is out for your head. _


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25- **

**Hoped you enjoyed the last chapter, I know I enjoyed my Hawke finally getting her revenge! **

**Don't worry for the people who aren't reading the Hawke's memory chapters, she will be telling a less graphic tale later on. **

**Huge thank you for your support! It makes me so happy when I read that you guys have been enjoying it, and if you have anything you would like to see, or any suggestions please do not hesitate to private message me! I love hearing from you! Your reviews/follows/favourites have been awesome!**

**Thank you, to my beta enchantment! I cannot believe how quickly these months writing have gone and you've been amazing and supportive the entire time! You're amazing and everyone should check out her fanfics! **

**Love, **

**Lunaaa**

**Xx**

Hawke stirred groggily and for a moment thought she was back at the hovel that she had called home for nearly a year and a half now. Then she remembered she had argued with Carver, that she had gone to Varric's suite… and that she had…

_OH SHIT._

She shot up too quickly as she tried to take in her surroundings, she twisted her head around a multiple number of times like a demented owl with a crick in its neck before finally confirming to herself where she was, what she had done and who with.

She had gotten blindly drunk, and climbed into Fenris' mansion. Not only had she done that but she had flirted with him and got _him_ intoxicated too. And whilst they were both drunk, they had opened up to each other in a whole new level, maybe on a higher plain than that of her brother.

She rubbed her temples before flashing the sleeping Fenris a quick look. He seemed harmless, curled on the floor with the blanket hugging him tightly. She looked down at her own blanket and realised he must have thrown it on her when she had… fallen asleep.

Oh, she knew full well that she had passed out, what annoyed her was how much of what happened last night was unknown to her. Did she come onto him? She laughed at the very thought, causing Fenris to stir in his sleep and bringing a panic to her stomach that would send even the Maker's Templars packing out of the city like bat's locked in a ringing belfry.

She had spoken of her father's death, she remembered that much. But what else? Did he know of that night? Did she tell him something she thought she would never tell another soul? Why had she come here? Why was it whenever she felt vulnerable, she seemed to run to Fenris as if he was her protector? What was this?

She wrinkled her nose as she gazed as the sleeping ex-slave trying to look at him a little closer than normal as if there was something very obvious that she was missing, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. He stirred again, opening one eye sleepily and then looking at her for a second and falling back to slumber.

Whatever it was, she didn't want to face it right now. Nor did she want to face the embarrassment of speaking to him about it, would he mock her? Would he tell her to get out now she was no longer intoxicated? She wouldn't let herself find out.

As quietly as she could she tiptoed out of Fenris' bedroom and down the lobby steps as fast as she could, darting out of the front door and into the morning light of Hightown.

_Maker's breath and Andraste's sagging breasts! Curse whoever made the sun so fucking bright!_

The sun's glare hit her like a ton of bricks as she tried to quickly escape Fenris' radar. It was as if some sadistic bastard up in the sky was purposefully making the sun follow her as punishment for her behaviour yesterday. Admittedly, whoever it was had every right to do as she had behaved erratically, for too long she had kept her calm with her brother. For too long she had held him back.

She walked past the Hanged man and for a moment she wanted to go in and let Varric distract her for a few hours instead of heading home to her family but she carried on walking to their hovel at top speed, if not to sort it out with her younger brother then to get away from a conversation with Fenris about last night's events.

_Feelings! Blast them all to the Maker's side along with the bastards who made them!_

She stopped at the front door in realisation of what she had just thought. So she admitted that she felt something for the slave, more so than she felt for most. She was normally sympathetic to the lost souls that were her companions on her daily business, but there was something else there. Maybe it was that they were mutual, that they were both escaping something they knew wouldn't end until blood was spilt? But the sorry difference about the two is that where Fenris was ready for the bloodshed, Hawke knew that she would crumble before the battle begun.

She opened the door to find that her mother was not in, which with the hangover she had she was most thankful for. She looked around the hovel swiftly to check if her uncle was also in and when she couldn't see him she decided to inhale deeply, knowing full well that the old bastard may be passed out in a corner. Gamlen regularly did so, but you could normally find where he had passed out by the strong aroma of sweat and cheap ale oozing from the location.

After confirming her mother and uncle were both out, she decided she would count the money she had been gathering for the expedition. She knew they were close; she had been working tirelessly for six weeks, missing out on meals just to gather the money. She went into the bedroom and found her brother sat on his cot, staring at the floor with a brow furrowed in thought.

They locked eyes for a moment, and in her hungover haze she remembered what he had said.

He had wanted Bethany back, and he was right to want her. Bethany had not been tainted by hatred and anger; _she_ had not been scarred to the point where there was practically no one underneath the muscle and bone. Aria was the ghost of a girl who once lived, and maybe it should have been her corpse that died and not that of her beautiful younger sister.

She loved her in every way imaginable, she adored her more than anyone and after that night, she envied her more than anything in the universe. The way she smiled when her magic fluttered around the air, the way the boys stared at her coal hair and rosy cheeks whilst they called Aria a freak for her pale locks; everyone had adored and loved Bethany, and she could see why.

Carver decided he wanted to speak first, interrupting her trail of thought.

"Aria, what I said about you and Bethany, I didn't mean it, I truly didn't. I was just…" he had begun to say, but she interrupted him, wanting to get her words out before him as she normally did.

"Angry? I know what it is to be angry brother, things have happened to me and I truly wish I could make them go away. You were right in some of the things you said, I should not involve you in my anger; you are your own man now. You do not need to protect me any longer; I am not fragile. I wish I could let go Carver, I do. But I just can't, I truly can't. Sometimes I distract myself but it is a constant beating in my heart. I wish Bethany were here and I were dead, you're right," she said, Carver's eyes widening at her statement.

"No, Az! I don't want you to be dead, I was angry, I explained! I just got pissed off that you followed us; I just wanted some privacy, some time away from being your brother. I wish you'd just tell me what happened all those years ago! I wish I could do something!" he said, stamping his foot into the wooden floor in frustration.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he began to repeat, putting his hands into his face and Hawke knew that he was sincere, Carver was terrible at explaining his feelings and yet he never realised that he never had to with her. She could just tell how it was, just by speaking to him for a moment.

"So, how did the picnic go? I didn't follow you that far; I was interrupted," she said, a coy grin spreading on her face at her brother's blush.

"I-uh, we kissed and then before we really got anywhere… a guard caught us and escorted us away from the beach..." Carver admitted, his blush going deeper as he played with the mouldy blanket on the cot.

Hawke laughed at the sight of her brother, and she thanked whoever was up there for him. She never would tell him to his face, but she would go mad without him. He was her voice of reason, her shoulder to lean on and her best friend. And he had mended some of the wounds from her past even though they burned even now.

Carver's eyes narrowed at her laughter and in a curious tone he asked, "What interrupted you from being the nosiest person in Kirkwall? Must have been something to stop you putting your Hawke beak where it's not wanted!" he quipped, a small smile appearing on his lips to make sure they were okay.

She gave him a small smile in return and realised her cheeks had become quite warm.

"I-uh bumped into Fenris, he saw what I was doing and intervened…"

"And last night? Where did you go? We looked for you for hours…"

"I-uh had a drink,"

"Alone? You know you're not supposed to do that on your own anymore, remember the thugs?"

"I wasn't alone, I uh- I went to Fenris' mansion," she said, whilst her cheeks stained a deep red at her brother's assuming gaze.

"I see, it seems we both have a thing for elves then doesn't it, big sister?" Carver said coyly, a grin on his face as he stared at her growing blush.

"I don't think so, I think it's just coincidence that he's been the unfortunate one that had to throw a blanket on me when I passed out. I think he's more pissed off than anything else," she replied, her tone collected as she tried to lie to her brother. She took a deep inhale of air as she waited for his reply, knowing full well that her brother knew her almost as well as she knew herself.

_Almost. _

"Well, at least with Fenris you know he wouldn't touch you with a barge pole because of your little secret unlike Anders' who'd probably make you into a living shrine for him to worship," Carver grunted to himself as he started to put on his boots.

"Can you just not be civil to Anders? He did give us the maps we need, and he does a lot of good for the city," Hawke retorted, she didn't understand her brother's hatred of Anders, she knew of the spirit and was wary, but she saw a goodness in him that she hadn't seen since her father.

"His bloody ideas are going to get him locked in the Gallows with the Templars," Carver replied, shoving his other boot on with force as if to empathise his words.

"Speaking of Templars, have you spoken to Cullen recently?" Hawke asked, watching her brother bolt upright at her question.

"No, why would I?" he asked, his tone suspicious.

"You don't have to kid me brother, I know you were curious about joining the order and I understand now that you feel as if you must be held because of your heritage. When the expedition is over, you'll be sat in a house bored whilst Mother dresses me up to be the noble daughter she's always dreamed of having," Hawke jested, but she knew it was true. As soon as they had the gold, she would be forced to retreat her former life of Lowtown jobs and cut throat deals and trade it for a life of tea and courting for a suitable husband that would strengthen their lineage and appease the matriarch of their family. Her mother would relish in reliving her old life.

"No, I don't think they allow recruits who are courting an apostate," Carver said absentmindedly as he played with the boot lace.

"Yes, please make sure I'm there when you tell Mother that after we've raised enough money to make us rich and regain our nobility that you're courting an elven apostate who likes to chat with a demon about a mirror," Hawke quipped, almost laughing at the image of Mother's face.

"Please, just don't even start. I'll tell her when she's drunk, or ill… maybe both? I think I'm going to look into the guard, but I… I just don't want to be in your shadow any longer sister," Carver said, a serious tone in his voice as he stood up and looked at Hawke in the eyes, brown staring out into green like a deep mixture of forestland.

"I understand, Carver. Now stop feeling guilty, it's over with we were both angry, we've lost father and Bethany; I don't want to lose you too. So stop being morbid and guilty and go and get Merrill, and ahem, have fun."

He gave her a swift nod and hug and almost skipped out of the room, she hadn't seen Carver so elated in years. She knew deep down he was right, he had been forced to be in her shadow and stuck with her for so many years, and it was time for him and mother at least to move on with their lives.

At the thought of moving on a certain Tevinter elf came into her mind, and she cursed him for doing so even though he wasn't there. In need of a distraction desperately, she reached under her cot and under the floorboards to the place where she hid her expedition savings.

She got out the money she had been saving for the best part of three months now and started to pile it into towers of coins, hoping that her estimates had been correct and that her uncle had stayed clear of it. She knew he had, if Gamlen knew where it was there wouldn't be a single coin left in her coffer box. As she counted she began to wonder if Fenris had woken up yet, and what he would be thinking…

_48…49…50_

After counting through to be sure three times, she quickly bagged the money and put it in her pack and set off to the Hanged Man in an excited flurry.

_They had enough money for the expedition!_


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 – Disaster's eve and chaos' labour**

**Sorry guys, I posted another chapter by accident yesterday! Here's the actual chapter…**

**Thought this was a good title since the deep roads is quite a sad part of Hawke's tale! This is the night before the deep roads, and then of course we'll be going towards the doom and gloom part of the story!**

**Thanks for your follows/reviews/favourites! It means so much and I love hearing from you all!**

**Thanks to my beta, for being so great! Enchantm3nt, you're fab!**

**Love to you all!**

**X**

Fenris woke up to the light breaking through the curtains onto his hungover face. He rolled over, cursing the light of the sun, before shooting up abruptly remembering the events of the night before.

_Hawke. _

She had been here intoxicated and he too had become intoxicated, not to same level as Hawke but he had drunk quite a fair bit, to say the least. He had told her of Hadriana and one of her many acts of cruelty, something he had thought he would never speak about, not even on his death bed. And she had spoken to him, this woman that he witnessed day in and day out with her cool expression and sharp words had opened up into this flower, this intoxicating flower that had blossomed and made his already drunken thoughts more ridiculous than they already were.

He looked over at where she had been sleeping last night, and knew before he looked she would be gone. And to be perfectly honest with himself, he was glad she had gone. They flirted with each other and played their games when the alcohol flowed, but sober they were both wrapped up in their own little bubble full of hatred and a complete lack of closure.

He opened the windows wide and realised, as he looked at the high sun, that it was already late afternoon, he had spent the entire day slumbering and she had not called for him, maybe that was that? Maybe she wouldn't want to speak to him and last night was only because the abomination's clinic door was shut? Maybe it was just because she was at her mother's childhood home and that he was nearest.

He cursed the sun as he splashed the basin's water in his face in an attempt to rid himself of all these thoughts and wipe away the memories of last night.

He knew nothing of women, he knew nothing of how the opposite sex worked or thought, in fact he didn't know how people worked; everything about freedom was fresh and new and emotions stirred in him that he had never experienced. Sometimes, he would find himself staring at Hawke when she wasn't aware or in a battle he would shield her from harm and only realise when his sword had dropped. It wasn't as if Hawke didn't have this effect on other men, all of the males of the group watched over her more than her own brother did these days.

And yet, a small part of him hoped that she got the same emotions; he trusted her more than anyone he had ever met in his existence and sometimes she looked at him in the same way that he looked at her.

Faasta Vas!

He cursed himself as he brushed quickly through his snow white hair, grabbing his sword and deciding on a trip outside rather than being stuck the entire day in his thoughts. He would not let that confusing woman trap him like she did with so many males; he swore she did it on purpose. He closed the front door to the mansion with a thud and walked quickly into the market, hoping that the annoying tradesmen with their selling cries would distract him from his own mind.

He knew where he was going before he even realised it, his feet had dragged him past the pleasant markets of Hightown and down the stairs towards Lowtown, and he cursed himself profusely for always searching for her. No matter where he was and what he was doing, he would watch the land and the skies for his Hawke. And it riled him, oh how it riled him. He had many emotions towards apostates throughout the years and to find himself entwined with another one but because of a completely different situation, riled him even more. He would always be hounded by magic it seemed.

When he walked through the door to the hanged man, he had expected it to be quiet, with a few of the patrons starting early. He did not expect to walk into a full tavern with people cheering and dancing to the music of a lute, fresh ale already drowning the floor and it wasn't even dusk.

He searched the tables until he found the dwarf, sat at his usual one in the corner viewing the scene with an expression of pure amusement. Varric nodded at Fenris as he strolled over, it had become routine. He would sit by the dwarf with whatever alcohol beverage he had acquired and after some banter from the other companions that he and Hawke had picked up along the ways, they would retire to the suite and play Wicked Grace.

"Elf, you're here a little earlier than usual," Varric said, gesturing a place for him to sit and clicking his fingers at one of the barmaids who came over and handed Varric a pitcher of ale with an annoyed expression painted on her exhausted face.

"How observant of you, dwarf," Fenris replied, dancing the same old dance that he had been participating with Varric for weeks now.

"So, is there any reason for that?" Varric asked, a knowing grin smeared on his face smugly.

Fenris' eyebrows furrowed in frustration at the dwarf and his questions, he knew he had come to speak to Hawke –hoping he could speak to her about these emotions that held him- but whether he should tell the dwarf was another topic entirely. He knew for a fact that the dwarf would create some sordid romance novel or he would just laugh in his face at the idea of his attraction to Hawke. Was it attraction? Or was it merely that no other woman that he could remember had ever been so kind to him? His grip on his mug of ale tightened as his thoughts became more frustrating and the dwarf's uncomfortable cough thankfully snapped him out of his inner monologue before he could shatter the glass.

"I wish to speak with Hawke about a matter," he replied, feigning calmness when really his insides burned with frustration.

"She's not here yet, she was, ahem, apprehended by Knight Captain Shiny Armour. I just got here early for the literacy gold and the comedy; they don't even have to do anything it just makes me almost cry at the sight of them! The apostate and the knight captain of the Templars! Ha!" Varric creased, holding onto the table as if the situation was so comedic that he would actually collapse from it.

Of course, Hawke had been apprehended. She was always being apprehended by men who wished to speak to her on some manner, whether it be for business or pleasure. Hawke deserved a knight in shining armour and Fenris' stomach gave a groan in agreement. But every time she ignored their advances, or smiled coldly at their compliments, something in him sparked and as much as it confused him he enjoyed watching them walk away with rejection smeared on their faces like fresh manure. It almost made him laugh.

Fenris sat nursing his ale and watched as each of the merry group of misfits that came here solely for Hawke sit down at the table, they viewed each other with nods and most of them were silent. Carver and Merrill sat together and whispered and giggled like children, and Isabela and Varric bantered with each other about the length of their daggers. He had never noticed how silent it seemed, without her there. No one seemed as animated, and all seemed to be looking at the door. After what seemed years, the door swung open and they were greeted with Hawke's musical laugh as she entered the tavern, still wearing the same armour she had last night but looking fresher than he had expected.

But alongside Hawke's laugh was a chuckle that he did not recognise, and he almost spat out his ale at the sight of Hawke laughing along with the Knight Captain of the Templar order. The dwarf said she had been apprehended, which normally meant someone wanted her for something, and normally when it was requests of a drink she would normally reject.

_Not this time it seemed. _

She nodded to the knight captain who took up a spot at the bar with great ease. The man obviously commanded a great deal of respect in the city for the drunkards and the patrons to give up their spots so easily.

Hawke glided towards them with a radiant smile that even shocked her younger brother. He looked at her in a gormless expression and couldn't even make out a hello to her. The abomination however seemed more agitated than usual; he looked at Hawke with chagrin and kept checking over the back of him as if the knight captain would be taking him to the Gallows at any moment.

_Any joyous moment… _

It was Isabela who piped up first, a wide smile on her face as she took in Hawke's flushed appearance.

"Well, well, we are naughty aren't we? Didn't know you had it in you, kitten!" she jeered, looking over at the knight captain at the bar before adding, "He can lock me up and put me at the top of his tower any day,"

"What the slattern means, Hawke, is we're glad to see you actually testing the waters," Aveline interjected, looking disgusted at Isabela's innuendo.

"Maker, Isabela! Cullen and I are just acquaintances enjoying a drink. I've been helping him out recently and he just wanted to say thank you!" Hawke replied, a small grin of amusement on her face at the pirate's comment.

"Sure thing, sweetness, let me know how he is. Hoist his anchor and let that ship of muscle and rugged good looks go, you can just taste his sexual frustration!" Isabela chimed, watching the knight captain with a dreamy look on her face.

Fenris wanted to vomit all over Cullen and his idiotically huge armour.

"Yes and then when he realises what you are you can play happy families in the Gallows, Hawke!" Anders snapped, looking over at the knight captain in disgust.

"Oh get over it Anders, it's just a soddin' drink with a man, she's not actually going to court him, right sister?" Carver chimed in, adding to the debate.

"I think he's quite pretty, Hawke," Merrill added.

"He's a fine man, Hawke," Aveline agreed with Merrill.

Hawke wrinkled her nose in frustration and awkwardness, and he knew what was going to happen next before it happened.

"I am just having a drink with someone else for a change! This does not mean I am going to have sex with him, court him, marry him or anything else. We are friends, that is it! And if it turns into something else then so let it be, you are not my parents, none of you has one say in this not even my little brother! SO BUTT OUT," she snapped, looking around the group that had gone silent.

Fenris remained silent, wondering what she really thought of the knight captain. He looked over at the man who was clearly looking at the back of Hawke with intrigue. He nor many other men would stand a chance against him, he was the perfect knight the only thing better would be if he were a prince.

"And that's not the point, he'll be gone soon and then we can start celebrating the good news! We leave for the Deep Roads tomorrow evening!" she said, her tone excited and her expression flushed.

The group around the table cheered and applauded, much to the abomination's annoyance, who muttered to himself that they were just asking for him to be shipped off to the Gallows with the racket, but Fenris wondered what would become of the group once Hawke and her brother ascended into nobility.

He had already predicted that Varric and Aveline would still speak to Hawke as they had good titles and lines of business with them. The blood mage would most likely become the mistress of Carver Hawke or his mother would disown him and he would live with the blood mage in her shack in the Alienage. The abomination would plot mage rebellions in his clinic in the slums, and Isabela would continue looking for her relic.

But when it came to Hawke, Fenris could not find one single prediction in which he would even speak to her again and yet he hoped.

He hoped she did not become a noble man's bracelet and that she carried on as she would and yet he saw the glint in her eye when she spoke of her mother. She would do anything to make her mother happy and it was custom for a noblewoman's daughter to marry to advance the family name.

He pulled the remainder of his drink down quickly at the thought, watching her rush off back to her knight captain friend who her mother would so approve of. He didn't even care about his hangover that much, the alcohol seemed to soothe the pain but made him ponder things much more than he should.

He owed her a debt, and that was meant to be the end of it. And now he found himself entwined with her, fascinated by her and a little bit jealous of Knight captain Cullen who she was currently laughing at loudly.

He watched the others as they joined in the merriments of the tavern, the ale ran free and so it seemed did the other companions inhibitions. He watched the blood mage and Carver dance along to the merry tune of the bard, even Aveline accepted Anders' offer of a dance. Isabela sat herself seductively on a table whilst her admirers gazed at her and threw compliments her way.

Fenris was beyond drunk at this point but he hid it well, he sat sombrely with Varric like he did most evenings and stared at Hawke laughing away with her Templar of all things. He should have known of all the men she would have an interest in, it would be the one that was the most dangerous to her. Would this so called Knight Captain adore her when he found out what she was?

"Elf, if you glare any harder at them two I think Cullen's going to think you're a rogue mage seeking revenge or some stupid shit like that," Varric commented idly, whilst going over his list of supplies that were needed for the journey the next day.

"I am not glaring at them, dwarf, I am glaring at everything in general," Fenris retorted, pushing away the tenth drink Varric had offered him with a look of disgust.

"Sorry, Broody, I didn't realise that you had a wide radius when you glared, from here it looks like you're just glaring at the knight captain," Varric said, still not looking up from his list.

"I am watching the Templar, not glaring at him. Surely the fool must know by now," Fenris scoffed at the Knight captain's renown.

"He ain't a fool, Broody, she's just damned good at hiding it," Varric said, flashing his eyes at Hawke and back to the parchment.

"Well, she's a fool to tempt fate in such a cruel way, she's condemning herself with her own overconfidence with a well-trained Templar," Fenris scoffed again, this time grabbing the mug of ale and pulling on it quickly.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Broody! Hawke's a big girl and she can do what she likes in my book, doesn't bother me as long as she doesn't get locked in the Gallows for the rest of time," Varric said, folding the parchment up and viewing Fenris with curious eyes.

"I am merely stating the obvious, dwarf, I cannot repay a debt if she is locked in the tower," Fenris said, glaring at the knight captain one final time before turning back to look at Varric.

Varric scrutinized every part of his face; he could feel the rogue's keen eyes trying to make sense of his mood. Before he could say anything, the abomination sat down and grabbed a mug of ale, downing it in one as if he was dying of thirst.

"I thought the Templar was going to be leaving soon," the abomination cursed, looking over at where Cullen and Hawke stood.

"Not you too, Blondie, Maker, you should all start a club! Look, he's saying farewell to his apostate lover now, you can finally whip that wand of yours out and do whatever it is you kids in long dresses like to do," Varric said, bemused by the whole situation as always but busying himself scribbling something down on another blank piece of vellum quickly. Fenris suspected it was fodder for his stories on Hawke, but was too drunk to be bothered to question the dwarf.

"Yeah well, it wouldn't work out even if they tried," Anders said, a smug grimace plastered to his face as Hawke walked towards them.

Hawke came and joined the table with flushed cheeks and a wide smile. Before he could help himself he glared at Hawke whilst she drank a mug of ale. Was this all just some sort of hobby to her? Speak to all the men she possibly could and make them have all these feelings to then blow them away as if they were nothing but the delicate petals of a white dandelion. It was as if she enjoyed watching them blow away in the breeze of her touch.

She noticed him glaring however, and arched her eyebrow at him, questioning his reason before she even spoke.

"Is something troubling you, Fenris?" she asked.

"Not really, Hawke, I was just wondering what a mage sees in a Templar so much to go out for a drink with him, they are obviously not the big bad wolves that the abomination claims them to be," Fenris said, not even recognising the abomination's presence as he spluttered.

"I'll have you know that Templars treat us like fucking slaves in the Circle!" the abomination snapped, but was silenced by Hawke's raised hand.

"Not all of them are monsters; they are very much human like you and me. He was just thanking me for aiding him in the issue we dealt with. Nothing more, nothing less. Trust me when I say this, I will never let a Templar touch me ever," she said, her voice became slightly raised as she looked down at him with burning eyes.

He wanted to speak to her in private; he wanted to establish whatever it was. But he was a coward and would forever be a coward it seemed. He just wanted to know what it was that they shared, were they just friends as she put it? Was it just that he had gotten the wrong end of the stick like the abomination had?

He looked up at her and wished she could read his mind for a moment, read the confusion that echoed endlessly. He needed to say something to her…

_Say something, Faasta vas!_

"As you say, Hawke," he said, nodding his head and resuming his feigned stoic manner.

She opened her mouth as if to say something but in a split second closed it shut; she looked taken aback by his words.

"I-uh thank you, Fenris for being so understanding," she said, as she grabbed the pitcher to pour herself another ale.

"So Hawke, we did it! I knew we'd do it, your daggers and my brains we're going to take over the world!" Varric rejoiced lifting the ale and clinking it with Hawke's.

"So, what are you trying to say, my devilish dwarf? That I'm stupid?" she said, a coy grin plastered on her face.

The abomination stared at Hawke with a curiosity Fenris did not like. He marvelled at her every move it seemed, and watched her closely. Something bit him in his chest, and he felt the small pang of jealousy return like it had when he saw her with the Knight Captain, but his hatred for the abomination seemed to amplify it, causing his usual stoic face to turn into a narrow glare again.

"My lady Hawke, would you do me the honour of a dance," the abomination said, feigning a sincere voice that contradicted his coy grin.

"No, thank you, Anders, I think I've drank too much to dance, but maybe another time?" she said, granting the abomination a small smile and of course the abomination returned it without a seconds notice.

"So, have you thought about who you're going to take with you on your business venture?" the abomination asked her politely, but Fenris knew he wanted to come with Hawke into the Deep Roads, a place where he supposedly hated.

"Yes, actually, I've thought about it for weeks. Aveline is too busy with her duties, Isabela would rather die than go to a place where there's no sex or ale and Merrill doesn't like the dark," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

"And what of you, Hawke? Are you afraid of the dark?" the abomination asked her in a teasing voice.

"I was once, but then we became friends," she said, her lip upturned in a small grin as if she was speaking about an inside joke that no one really knew about. The abomination looked at Hawke with a furrowed brow, as if he too was trying to work out Hawke's riddle. Fenris could practically hear the cogs whirling in his tiny mind.

"So, I was going to ask my brother, Fenris, you and Varric to come with me, that is if you and Fenris and you don't turn on each other mid-battle and get killed by a stampede of brontos," she said coolly, looking back at the abomination and himself.

"You have your brother, what do you need him for?" the abomination asked, nodding his head in Fenris' direction. He growled at the abomination who looked other at him in disgust.

"Fenris is a highly skilled warrior, plus big old place of dark and he glows," Hawke said, throwing Fenris a dazzling smile and a coy wink that made his mood fade.

_Damn that woman, to the fires of the sun and back!_

"Plus it's the perfect place to just- I dunno forget to whistle so he doesn't come back right?" the abomination said, flashing a grin as if he was joking too. Fenris knew he wasn't jesting and if he could the abomination would without a seconds thought launch him into a pit of rocks and whatever beast lay in it.

"Hold your tongue, abomination or I will rip it out," Fenris snarled, annoyed at the mockery that the abomination tried to subject him to.

"Gentlemen, do I need to get the guard captain to lock you in the cells for a night?" Varric said in a sweet voice that Fenris knew was really his threatening tone.

"Maker Az, leave you alone to watch these two behave for two seconds and they're already ready to fight," Carver said as he and Merrill joined the table.

"I think it's adorable how they fight over her, leave them alone, Carver," Merril said, poking Carver in the rib as she sat down next to him.

"Witch, do not walk in and think you know us, I would not fight for no woman," Fenris snapped, making the blood mage jump in fright. Carver grabbed hold of Merrill's arm to keep her still and glared at Fenris furiously whilst doing so.

"Now now, is that the way you talk to all the girls, Fenris? If it is then I'm game, I love a bit'a cruel to be kind!" Isabela purred as she too joined the table once again, bending over and flashing him a wide grin whilst she showed him as much breast as she possibly could.

"Is everything just sex to you, Slattern?" Aveline barked as she sat back down nursing her ale, casting short longing glances over at the guards who were drinking where Hawke and the Templar had been, laughing loudly.

"Anders, Fenris, if you cannot at least ignore each other rather than spit and scratch at each other then I don't want either of you going with me, and then when I end up dead because we have no healer or extra sword you can fight over which one of you could have saved us from the horde of darkspawn that ate our brains out, for now let's just drink and have a laugh while we all can together, yeah?" Hawke lectured, her eyes flashing to both of them as she spoke as if watching for a change in expression.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," the abomination chimed, a smile on his face as he winked at her.

Fenris nodded his reply whilst he grinded his teeth together, he did not want to even open his mouth lest his true feelings betray him.

"So serious sister dear, fancy a dance?" Carver quipped holding out his hand to the elder Hawke.

For a moment Fenris thought she would deny him like she had done the abomination, but she grabbed her brother's hand willingly and ran towards the dancing, laughing. It still irked Fenris that he didn't understand Hawke's quirks, but at the same time he enjoyed the mystery that drifted around her; it was intoxicating.

He watched Carver and his sister dance for a moment, grateful that they had sorted out their differences. He did not think that he could hold onto what little sanity he had left if he had to be stuck underground with creatures of the blight and the Hawke siblings quarrelling all the way through the tunnels of the Deep Roads.

"You know I was quite serious in what I said, I do love it when men talk dirty and I bet with your voice it'll feel _so_ much dirtier," Isabela drawled as she took the seat that was free next to him.

"I do not doubt it," Fenris replied, looking at the Rivaini pirate as she smiled at him.

"I wonder how far your tattoos go down," Isabela said, gazing at his lyrium markings dreamily.

"I wonder if you'd have sex with a dog if we made you celibate for a week," Aveline barked across the table, glaring at Isabela in a disgust which meant she had been listening in to their conversation.

"Well, all he needs is a collar," the abomination said lowly so only Fenris could hear. Fenris growled at the abomination but would not fall for his tricks. He knew exactly how the abomination wanted him to react.

"Naughty boy, I heard that," Isabela said, looking at the abomination who feigned a look of innocence whilst Isabela tutted at him mockingly then laughed deeply when she noticed the abomination watching Hawke dance, "I know what you're thinking and I bet you anything she's wearing something under those leather pants to make her bum bounce like it does."

The abomination turned around and instead of blushing like Fenris thought he might, he winked at her and answered with a laugh. Fenris flashed his eyes over to Hawke who was bouncing around and dancing with her brother, and before he could help himself his eyes looked down at Hawke's ample bottom. It wasn't as curvy or as large as Isabela's of course, but he still found it to be attractive.

He averted his eyes straight away, his ears going pink with embarrassment and for a few seconds he thought no one had noticed the burning that spread from his ears to his cheeks.

"I saw that, Broody," Varric said, finally putting away his papers and joining the table fully.

"Dwarf, I see you do it every day," Fenris quipped back.

"Hey, I can't help it if it's right in my face," Varric said, shrugging casually as called the barmaid over for more drinks, "That reminds me Fenris, what did you and Hawke get up to last night?" Varric asked, looking at Fenris with a wicked grin. The table went silent at Varric's words; even Isabela had nothing to add in to the conversation. The abomination seemed to have forgotten how to breathe as he looked at Fenris in surprise and resentment.

"And have you not asked Hawke this?" Fenris asked coolly, whilst grabbing one of the fresh drinks the barmaid had brought.

"Yes and she said she got absolutely off her tits in Hightown and you were closest and she passed out on your floor," Varric said a bemused expression on his face.

"And that is, indeed what happened," Fenris replied, taking a sip out of his drink whilst still staring at the dwarf.

"Maker, what I would have given to be one of the flies on the wall at your mansion last night and there's me thinking Hawke was a- well like man hands over here!" Isabela exclaimed as she nodded over at Aveline who opened her mouth to object but Isabela had already started speaking again, "Is she wild under the covers like she is in battle? Did you two have an angry argument about mages and just exploded and started doing it on the dirty floorboards? Does she wear special small clothes to keep her tits and ass so bouncy?" Isabela said, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I can assure you that we did nothing but drink and talk and then she eventually passed out in which I put a blanket on her and then I too fell asleep for the night," Fenris replied, his cheeks blushing at the mere thought of having sex, never mind with Hawke.

"Yes, let's not even go into the reasons why she wouldn't have sex with you," the abomination said, almost smiling at Fenris' words.

"Why would who have sex with who?" Hawke said as she walked closer to the table, smiling widely from the dancing.

"Why wouldn't Fenris have sex with me!" Isabela chimed in, saving the group from the embarrassment of telling their fearless leader their conversation.

"Hmm, that's tough; shall we just switch it to why he _would_ have sex with you?" Hawke said, throwing Isabela a wink who returned it by blowing a kiss.

"Honestly kitten, the things we could do together you and I," Isabela purred, but that didn't faze Hawke at all, instead she blew a kiss back, much to Fenris' surprise. It seemed she had once again had a lot to drink.

"So, my victorious friend, you've made it into the Deep Roads expedition, what's your plan when you come back filthy rich?" Varric said, gesturing the seat next to him which Hawke took immediately. It seemed that Varric was on the same level as Carver when it came to Hawke's trust.

"Well, I don't want to become some snooty rich girl in big dresses if that's what you're asking, but I think I'll sit back and enjoy the view that Hightown has to offer," Hawke replied, making a lump rise to Fenris' throat as she stared right at him.

Varric didn't seem to notice the exchange between the two and replied "so you'll be staring at the same shit you always do, it's the same kind of people but they prefer the expensive shit over poverty."

Hawke laughed at the dwarf's comment, and sipped her ale.

Fenris watched Hawke as she drank her ale and made banter with the other party members, was this just what she did? He never got to speak to her about what had happened last night; he was walking blind in territory he barely understood.

"If you don't mind giving me a moment, I think I need a bit of air," Hawke said, rising from the table after her twelfth ale.

"Allow me to assist you, madam," the abomination started to say but was silenced by Carver almost immediately.

"Want me to take you home, sister?" he asked, glaring at the abomination fiercely, it gave Fenris great satisfaction that like him, Carver Hawke did not want the abomination anywhere near his sister.

"No, no I'm fine, I just really would like to take a breath to myself, thank you Carver, why don't you uhm, carry Merrill home?" Hawke said, hiccupping slightly as she looked at the blood mage who was sat with her face down on the table, obviously not able to hold her ale.

"Do you require some assistance, Carver?" Aveline spoke for the first time in a while; it seemed she too was brooding over something, or someone.

"I-yes please. I really don't want any more dog lords to come at me whilst trying to carry a passed out elf, actually I don't think it's them I have to worry about, I don't want the guard to throw me in a cell for how wrong this looks," Carver said as he lifted the blood mage over his shoulder with ease. It seemed Carver was not at all against touching people, in fact he seemed to revel in it.

The small group walked out and Fenris saw his chance and grabbed it, he gave it a minute to make sure that the guard captain and Carver had left and decided he would speak to Hawke and then take his leave for the night.

"See ya, broody," Varric said before he could even stutter out a farewell.

"Yes, I shall see you tomorrow dwarf, Isabela," he said, nodding his head and not even bothering to regard the abomination.

As he walked away from the table, he heard the abomination mutter "It's going to take all of my willpower not to throw that bastard into a really deep pit."

Hawke was sat on a bench, her face masked by her hair that had come loose; it shrouded her like a waterfall of white. She rested her elbows on her knees and her body slightly shook in the cold air.

"Are you alright, Hawke?" he asked, concern nagging away at him. He did not want her to be sick; he had carefully avoided the vomiting last night and didn't want to ruin his winning streak.

"Yes, Fenris I'm fine, I can hold my ale like a dwarf, you should know that by now," she cajoled, looking up at him with twinkling green eyes.

"I do know, Hawke, but it's still prudent of me to ask if you're going to vomit at my feet, I lack shoes and I don't doubt the feeling would be quite unpleasant if you did so," he replied, his lips slightly turning up in a small grin.

"I'll let you know if I'm going to hurl on your precious toesies then," she quipped.

"I thank you for your thoughtfulness."

They sat in silence for a moment, nothing but the slight breeze in the night air making a sound. He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to ask why his stomach slightly bubbled when she looked at him, but he just couldn't get the words out.

"You're going to be okay working with Anders, right?" she asked, lifting herself off of her knees and sitting upright.

"I will work with the abomination if that's what you mean, I won't let my hatred for him get in the way of our lives, Hawke," he said, honestly.

"And because if you do kill him we're not splitting his share of the money around us, I'll donate it to the Circle or something," she said, a grin on her face. Fenris was acutely aware that there was only a yard between the two of them; he could feel the heat of her body rolling off of her.

"Varric will cry if he hears you say that, Hawke," he replied, a small smile hidden on his face.

She pouted at him and laughed, looking up at the stars with a small smile on her face.

"I'm glad you stayed, Fenris," she said, still not looking at him.

"I thought it best that I stay where I was last seen by my former master's precious hunters, it would be an advantage to fight them on my own battle ground," he replied, wishing he could admit that a small part of him stayed because she asked him to, that once again he found himself listening to the commands of a mage.

"And you have me," she said, turning to him for a moment to smile at him, then gazing back into the stars.

"Danarius is powerful, Hawke, you do not need to fight my battles," he replied, worried for the safety of his friends if they were left in the magister's hands.

"And you don't know the things I can do, Fenris, when I really put my mind to it," she replied, her eyes searching the stars intensely.

_More riddles, Hawke?_

"I think I could imagine the possibilities, Hawke, I daresay we stand a good chance,"

"Is that optimism from you, Fenris?"

"No, that would be the whiskey the dwarf made me try,"

He could smell her she was that close, the smell of fruit and the tang of metal clashing together delightfully. Her hair shook as she laughed, looking at him with her fringe partially in her eyes, he had a sudden desire to put it behind her ear but quenched the desire with a curled up first.

"I enjoy your company, Fenris, you're different from everyone else," she said, a blush hitting her cheeks as soon as she spoke.

"By everyone else you mean I'm not one of your foolhardy admirers that throws themselves at you for your every whim?" he asked, truly wondering.

"They do not throw themselves at me!" she mock scolded, smacking his unarmoured hand, their fingers brushing against each other lightly.

They both froze at the contact, staring at each other in absolute shock. Hawke's eyes went wide, searching his face for something and wrinkling her nose ever so slightly.

"I am so sorry, I really am, trust me I don't normally, I-shit, sorry!" she said, jumping back to the very end of the bench, looking at her hand as if it would set fire at any given moment.

He looked at her for a moment, bewildered. Her touch did not hurt, he expected to feel a stab of magic or even for the slap to hurt him, but it did not. It was soft, fleeting and it made his stomach buzz.

"It is no bother, Hawke, it did not hurt," he said, not wanting to explain to her the real truth of it.

"I don't normally do-uh- touching actually, I like my personal space if you haven't noticed," she said, her words falling on each other in her nervous babble.

"I have Hawke, there is no need to apologise," he said, a small part of him wanted to try it again, to ask if he could touch her hand just for a moment but he was a coward.

"You're just like my brother!" she blurted out.

"I see?" he asked, wondering if she thought of all men as her brothers.

"Uh- no shit, no I mean I'm just comfortable like I am with my brother around you," she said, smacking her face.

"Hey Hawke, you better not be throwing up or your mother's going to chase you into the Deep Roads if you cover the streets with vomit- Broody, you said you were going home!" Varric exclaimed as he walked out of the tavern and looked back and forth between Hawke and Fenris.

"I-yes, I was bidding Hawke good night," Fenris lied, nodding his head towards Hawke.

"Yes, Fenris good night," Hawke said, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she stared at him.

"Good night."

He walked away from the tavern more bewildered than when he arrived.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter twenty seven- The dominoes start to fall. **

**I would just like to thank you all for your reviews, follows, favourite and for just even reading my work! You guys mean so much to me and I love hearing your feedback. **

**Thanks to my beta, Enchantm3nt as always.**

Carver sat for a moment, taking a bite out of an apple as he thought.

It would be soon time to leave for the Deep Roads, and he had been aiding Bartrand with his sister all day, and quite frankly he didn't think the bastard of a dwarf was going to make it to the Deep Roads before either he or his sister throttled him. He glared at Bartrand who was barking out orders to some of the hands that were accompanying them throughout the Expedition. To say Carver didn't enjoy the dwarf's company would be an understatement. If Varric hadn't told him they were brothers then he wouldn't have been able to see a single similarity; Varric was disarming and full of wit, whereas Bartrand seemed serious, and the only time he'd seen a smile of the older dwarf's face was when Varric and his sister approached him with a sack full of gold.

His gaze flickered to the stairs from Lowtown, hoping Merrill would be on time to say goodbye at least. He prayed she didn't get lost whilst he was away, or that Isabela would at least actually come through with her promise to look after her.

It wasn't a serious relationship, not yet he knew that. But he felt something in his bones when he looked at her, and he always got butterflies whenever he thought about her. He couldn't wait to give her everything she deserved with the money and status he had gained, Maker it was one of the reasons he was going on this Expedition.

It was not the only one, of course. He was doing this for mother, with the Amell line established she would live the life full of the comforts she deserved. But the biggest reason of all was his older sister. He would not let her throw herself into the unknown without anyone to lean on. He would forever keep his word to his father and would protect her to the end. Despite their arguments, they had always defended one another from the onslaught of life, and even with Merrill in his life he would do so.

His eyes flickered to his sister, who sat on one of the crates pretending to be looking at the supplies list that was laid out on her lap. He knew she wasn't, she was looking at the elf again. For the past few weeks, he had watched his sister with him and he hated to admit the more he tried to find faults with Fenris, he only seemed to find good reasons they should be together.

He had seen them insult and snap at each other and argue until they were blue in the face, he had watched as Fenris looked at his sister in her worse temper with a stoic expression as though she was merely speaking. He had also taken care of his sister when she was paralytic and merely put a blanket on her when some of her admirers would do more. He didn't want to know every detail of Fenris' past, but he knew it was a bad one and that was something they could relate to.

_He lit the candle, looking at trying to find the source of the noise when he saw her. She no longer looked like his sister and yet he could feel that it was her. She stared through the window, her eyes wide and only the dirt to cover her dignity. Her skin a greyish white and her hair stained with dirt and blood with debris sticking out. She moved her hand from her leg and he almost vomited at the sight of the infected wound. _

He shook off the memory, throwing the apple to the floor violently and began aiding the men in loading the crates onto the wagons. As they worked, a crowd appeared, wives and other relatives of those who were journeying down to the Deep Roads coming to wish them farewell. He scanned the crowd and was disappointed when he did not find Merrill yet and Bartrand had already started briefing the group.

He took position next to his sister, who had already been joined by Anders, Varric and Fenris. She looked bored at Bartrand's monologue and from the corner of his eye, Carver swore that he saw Fenris grin at the sight.

"We've chosen one of the hidden entrances, the Deep Roads will be nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering," Bartrand started, looking around the group of thirty or so people, the majority of them dwarves.

"Now there's an interesting image," Varric whispered to Aria, who snorted at his words.

"It'll take a week for us to get to the depth we need, and there are bound to be darkspawn left over from the Blight, big risks, big rewards," Bartrand continued, not even noticing Varric speak.

"Risks? Rewards? What could be better?" Aria said, grim determination set on her face complimented by a coy grin.

"Exactly partner! Now if- wait, who invited the old woman?" Bartrand said, looking at Leandra Hawke who was charging her way through the crowds and bee lining it for his sister with obvious intent. Carver Hawke was not afraid of many things, but when it came to his mother's rage he would cower behind Aria as she took the brunt of it. Her mother threw her apologies at the dwarf before grabbing both Aria and Carver and pulling them away from the crowd, her lips mashed together as she looked at them both with scolding eyes.

"Mother no, we talked about how important this is," Carver started to say, hoping to defend his sister from Mother's fury.

"I can understand you wanting to do this, but I beg you to leave your brother here!" Leandra interrupted, staring at sister with pleading eyes. Carver watched for a moment, his sister would do anything to make their mother happy.

But Aria stood defiant, staring at her mother with strained eyes.

"Carver is a fully grown man, Mother he can make his own decisions now. The choice is his, not mine," Aria said, her joined clenched as if it were truly painful to deny their mother.

"I have already decided to come, mother and there is no changing it," Carver added, his voice trembling slightly under his mother's angry gaze.

"You would let me lose another child?" Mother said, looking at Aria with tearful eyes.

"I repeat, mother he is a grown man," Aria stayed her ground, although he could see that Mother was taking her toll on his sister.

"And why can it not be that one of your other friends comes with you? What of that elven girl you and Carver seem to always be hanging about with?" Mother asked, her voice bitter at Aria's refusal.

"Not if the Maker asked me to himself! Merrill will not be going because I already am Mother!" Carver replied.

"Aria, I will never try to understand you or these things you get yourself into, but please don't do this, I don't want him to end the same way as Bethany, please don't do this to me!" Mother pleaded.

"Mother, it is final. I am going with sister, there is nothing that will stop me, please stop blackmailing Aria with Bethany, it won't change my mind," Carver concluded, his eyes searching for Merrill as he scanned the crowds.

Mother looked at sister and then back to him for a moment, contemplating what else she could do to have it so he would stay, after a moment it seemed she could come up with nothing and granted them one last glare before storming off down the stairs back to Lowtown. He hated it when she was displeased, but he would not be coddled by his mother or his sister any longer. He scanned the crowds a final time, wishing Merrill would be there.

His stomach nearly jumped out of his mouth when he saw Merrill and Isabela walking towards them, Isabela basking in the glory of the men that were staring at her, Merrill giggling in tow at the sight of the men. He had never been so thankful to see her, standing there with her lack of shoes and impish grin.

He ran towards her, not even bothering with his mother's pleas and his sister's replies. He needed to kiss her one last time. Until he returned that was, and when he did he would give her everything. She was the fresh air to a drowning man, whenever he was with her his problems melted.

He lifted her in the air and spun her around, making her giggle like a small child. She cried for him to stop but he did not, wanting to bask in the moment forever. He slowly set her down and leaned in and met her lips, giving her a kiss that was full of promises, full of passion and full of futures.

"I told you I would come to say goodbye! Isabela made sure I didn't get lost Ma'vhenan,"she said, nuzzling his nose with her own.

He looked at Isabela who had already left to speak to his sister; Isabela was not one for thank you's or cute couples it seemed. He watched as every so often, despite conversing with Isabela sister would glance at Fenris, and smirked to himself.

_A thing for elves indeed. _

Anders seemed to be nervous as he stood with Hawke, as if he was scared by the Deep Roads. He did not like the mage one bit but he did sympathise with what he was going through to impress his sister, the Deep Roads were already fearful without the taint running through your veins. He imagined it would be worse for Anders.

His sister beckoned him as the group started to mount their horses or wagons, readying themselves for the journey ahead. He smiled at Merrill, giving her one last kiss before he too would join the group.

"Be safe," Merrill whispered, more as a command than a plea.

"I will, my love," he replied, making Merrill smile widely, she looked almost childlike when she smiled, but he found it to be one of her most endearing qualities.

He mounted the wagon where Varric sat next to him, a wicked grin on his face as confirmation that he would be teased endlessly for what he had just witnessed.

He waved to the crowds as the wagons started to move, a smile on his face as he saw Merrill's smiling face shine brighter than the rest of them.

When he made it back, he would ask for her hand in marriage.

And then mother would finally get the grandchildren she dreamt about.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter twenty eight- the deep roads **

**So, we're nearly at the end of act one!**

**I am really grateful for the feedback I get, when someone takes their own time to comment on my work it honestly means a lot to me! Thank you for your reviews/follows/favorites! **

**As always, my beta is amazing and I love her dearly. Enchantm3nt!**

Hawke stood at the entrance of the tunnel, her eyes staring into nothingness as she readied herself to enter the darkness.

Hawke had made friends with the darkness all those years ago; it no longer scared her in the way it had. But this, this was all a whole new kind of darkness. She had been subjected to every degree of darkness she ever thought possible, she revelled in it now for it if it weren't for the darkness then she would have nowhere to hide.

But the darkness that now confronted her now was unknown; it was constricted and narrow and would not allow her to run away, there would be no dawn to chase away the dark and its demons and for a moment Hawke admitted to herself that she was truly scared.

Not for herself, no Hawke was not scared to die, but for her brother. He had not been maimed by the dark and the unknown before not even when Bethany died.

_The ogre's hand picked her up and held her in the sun's rays; it snarled and tossed her like she was nothing but a rag doll. _

She winced at the memory, but even in watching their sister die, Carver had been bathed in sunlight, he had been blessed with never knowing the dark, not being touched by its vile taint.

She could hear the camp from a distance, the slight buzz of voices and the odd log of firewood being thrown into a dying pit, but it seemed far away from where she was now, like it was in another world.

She heard a footstep creak behind her and in her panic she flipped out her dagger and turned, ready to face whatever had decided to sneak up on her.

"As always, Hawke, your manners are to be revelled in," Fenris drawled, looking up at the dagger and her face nonchalantly, as if it were nothing but a piece of cutlery she was brandishing so close to him.

"I permit you to revel, but I do not permit people that try to make me jump when I'm thinking," she replied, glaring at him for a moment before withdrawing her blade.

"Save that paranoia for what we face, it may save us," Fenris said, looking at her in a stoic manner as always.

"Right-o then, any other useful tips on how I should mental insecurities in the face of darkness?" she asked.

"Maybe some sleep? Perhaps a little food? You have done little since we started this expedition," he said, a sharp edge on his voice that Hawke could only fathom as scolding.

"Oh father, you do worry too much!" she said, parrying his every reply.

"I thought I was your brother?" he asked, his lips turned up in a miniscule wicked grin.

She wrinkled her nose at his words of last night, and with a snort she charged towards camp without even turning around or acknowledging Fenris.

She did however take his advice, and ate some food and even laid down on her bed mat in an attempt to sleep. Sleep did not come however and she found herself staring at the stars, wishing they could tell her answers to the questions she asked herself constantly.

What would become of her? For almost eight years now she had lived this life, a life full of fake smiles and pretence and hiding behind her brother's love as if it were her only shield. And yet she hid things from him, her deepest secrets would be her undoing. The changes that were coming were inevitable, her and her brother would no longer be as one. Another mage had his sole intention now; she could see it in his face. And in a way that was good, change was sometimes good, but without Carver as her shield she feared that the hatred would burn her inside out.

'Twas not only that, but no matter how hard she tried something had changed, shifted in her emotions. Hard as she tried, Fenris seemed to pull at her like he was some sort of strange beacon in her life of darkness. She was not yet willing to stand in its light, she was not yet willing to let go. So she would resist, resist whatever she desired with Fenris, until the part of her that just wanted another shield to hide behind disappeared and she could walk into the sun.

People said she was overly independent, but they were truly wrong. For if it was not for her brother there to remind her of who she was, she truly would be an animal.

She wondered if Fenris felt the same way, if he felt this irrational pull in his abdomen when they argued or even spoke sometimes. She cursed herself under her breath, but secretly she enjoyed the fact that even after all these years she was only human.

She smiled at the stars as she closed her eyes, readying herself for the rewards that were yet to come.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter twenty Nine - Anders. **

**Wow! Just look how far we've come! I hope you're all enjoying this, and big thanks to all the follows/favourites/reviews! **

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**Love you guys so much! **

**Lunaaa.**

**X**

Of all the places Anders thought a woman would lead him; he would have never thought it would be back to the blighted (literally) Deep Roads. His time with the Wardens had proven that he wasn't really into traipsing around darkspawn filled holes with tainted this and tainted that always trying to kill them, at least occasionally it was demonic this and demonic that instead; the Deep Roads certainly didn't lack for variety. Although, he had to admit each time he'd been, the view had always been a little bit better by the sight of a fearless leader slashing away at the darkness and killing the monsters that hid in it.

And that was exactly what Hawke was doing, slaying monster after monster, seemingly never tiring as she continued to press forward through the muggy dark depths. He had to admit, it worried him that he had not seen her eat or sleep properly in over a week now, yet somehow she still had the stamina to carry on; perhaps it was through sheer force of will that she endured, the drive to find the gold, to uplift her family, get them out of poverty.

Even when injured, she still refused to use her magic, and it infuriated him. He admired and respected Hawke deeply because of her virtues and principles. But even Justice could feel the small thrum of her magic, desperate to be unleashed and to explore its potential. Yet she kept it under lock and key, and the only time he had ever heard of her even using it was when she saved her brother and that elf

_That stupid moronic arse of a elf._

He looked over to where the elf was walking, stood behind Hawke and her brother with Varric. It set Anders' teeth on edge the way the mongrel looked at her, eyes trying to burn into her, as though he would devour her like the rabid beast that he was. Not that he could really blame him, all men watched Hawke like that – she was intoxicating, impossible to miss or ignore, but it made him feel oddly protective; he just wanted to hold her tight and keep her away from their grasping hands. Not that Justice approved; they had spent many a night arguing about his intentions toward Hawke. In the end it always boiled down to the fact that they needed her; she would no doubt be useful in the long run – especially if she used her Maker sent magic for once - and it wasn't like anything could happen between them anyway, not with Carver around, barely ever leaving Hawke's side.

He glanced sideways at the elf, who had decided to join the two Hawke's in conversation along with Varric and he felt a pang of jealousy.

Since he met her he had been having dreams. Different from those of the Blight, he dreamt of her. Nothing pornographic, Justice did not allow that, but often they would just be sat in a field together, talking and laughing as a fire crackled in front of them, and when that fire burned down, Hawke would flick her wrist and it would start up again.

He cherished those dreams.

But dreams were all they would ever be; he couldn't even get near Hawke with Carver and the mongrel at her side, practically guarding her. Carver he understood; he was just being a protective brother, but the elf? It was almost as if he had decided to leash himself to Hawke, playing the slave quite willingly.

Then he felt them, the tingle at the edge of his mind, the tickling just under his skin. _Darkspawn._

He yelled out a warning, rising to his feet with his staff drawn with practiced ease, the others moving quickly to stand with him.

The Darkspawn appeared then, charging forward, snarling and grunting, rushing their group without thought, clearly intent on attacking their group and the expedition workers. Hawke winked at him as she gave him a feral smile, and then she tossed a smoke bomb to the ground and disappeared. He threw down a glyph of repulsion around his and Varric's feet, and then the smoke had cleared enough for him to cast properly. He unleashed a fireball at the archer's at the back of the Darkspawn pack, not bothering to watch as they fell to the ground dead, instead turning his attention to a Hurlock closing in on Hawke as she fought a Genlock; he sent a bolt of electricity at it, and then Fenris was there, cutting the shuddering creature in half before dashing off to aid Hawke.

It was almost impossible to keep track of Hawke and the two warriors, both of them a blur, cutting down foe after foe while Varric and him picked off or slowed targets down for them to finish off. One thing was certain though, Hawke was fearless – no, bloody _terrifying-_ charging in without a care, leaving her brother tailing after her, trying to watch her back; Carver would cut down a foe and turn to check on her only to find her on the other side of the tunnel, and Anders was having a hard time making sure she was safe too, wanting to shield and heal her but never being able to lock onto her.

It was as he was distracted trying to keep track of Hawke that he heard a howl of pain that sounded more like a defiant roar; he turned just as Fenris fell to his knees, a Darkspawn dropping with him as Fenris reached into its chest, fist glowing to rip out its heart. It was only as the Darkspawn hit the ground that Anders saw the sword protruding from the elf's stomach. He winced slightly knowing the dangers a Darkspawn blade could carry, and the look on the elf's face seemed to suggest he realised the danger as well; gone was his usual arrogance, a grimace twisting his sharp features instead.

He wished he could just pretend he hadn't seen him, just carry on with the barriers and the other spells he was casting and let the elf die. Hawke didn't need him in her life; he was just more complications for someone as admirable as her.

"ANDERS, HEAL HIM PLEASE," she shouted over as she ran to where the elf lay, "You better not fucking die, Fenris!" she said as she fell to where the elf lay. Justice agreed with her, pettiness was not something to be debated for another's life.

_Would she panic just as much if it was me?_

"ANDERS!" she roared to where he had been casting.

He stood glued to the spot for a moment, and then ran to her side.

He would rather face an Archdemon than face her fury right now, and as much as he would like to be that kind of man, he wouldn't let anyone die on his watch.

He ran over to where the elf lay, keeled over with blood pouring through the metal of his armour.

"Hawke, on the count of three you must pull the sword out," he ordered her, and it was odd that she complied without even questioning his actions. She grabbed the hilt with shaking hands, Varric and her brother stood next to her, ready to protect her if it was required. Even though they had befriended the elf, they still took precautions it seemed.

The elf growled at his command to Hawke, snapping his jaws and trying to get away from the only thing that could save him right now. He seemed almost more animal than man as the other two companions held him down as he growled his reluctance. What Hawke saw in him he would never understand.

"1…2..3!"

Fenris howled in agony as the sword was ripped from his flesh, albeit reluctantly Anders summoned the healing light from his fingertips and forced it to meet the elf's skin, it fused the wound together, the skin knitting slowly as if it had never happened. The elf stayed there for a moment, his head on the dirty ground and then after a few deep breaths, stood up. His face was tightly mashed together and Anders knew it still hurt.

"You're lucky that the sword wasn't tainted," Anders said, looking at Fenris as he steeled himself, clearly trying to act like the sword to his gut had hardly fazed him.

"Fenris, here take an elfroot potion," Varric said, his usual wit and charm lost from the situation.

The elf grabbed the potion and murmured his thanks, and Anders noticed Hawke watching him intensely.

"Come, sit and drink your potion, and then a drink will do you good," Hawke said, beckoning him to follow her.

And of course, like everyone else in Hawke's group, he followed her without a single hesitation.

"**The elf will corrupt her even more than she already is, he will spread his taint and whatever potential your object of admiration has, will be gone," **Justice's words boomed true in his inner mind. They thought as one.

He looked miserably at the elf and Hawke as they sat beside one another speaking about something as she persuaded him to drink his entire potion, smiling at him when he had finished and if it weren't for the darkness that surrounded them Anders would have sworn that he saw the elf smile.

Anders would not let Fenris corrupt her; she deserved a better man than Fenris. . Anders was not the best man in the world, but he would let her become free rather than chain her down with him like the slave would. He heard Hawke snort with amusement from where she was sitting with the elf, and he frowned.

"Someone pissed in your boots, Blondie?" Varric said as he and Carver stopped their own conversation and had obviously been looking at Hawke and Fenris too.

"Thankfully no, I already hate the Deep Roads, that would just make my day worse," Anders sighed, turning to look at the dwarf and the human warrior. Carver was almost beaming at the sight of his older sister paying a man so much attention, Anders knew that Carver liked Fenris, purely because Fenris was not a mage. Carver, who had been surrounded by mages all his life, did not want his sister near her kin, apart from the demon talking blood mage that he had got on as soon as she had arrived to Kirkwall.

He was a hypocrite, to say the least.

"So what's with the face?" Varric asked, curious as ever.

"I don't like how he looks at her," Anders explained quietly, nudging his head towards Hawke.

"I don't like how you look at her, but I don't pull that face every time," Carver interjected, his face frowning in annoyance.

"You would accept your sister courting someone who despises mages?" Anders asked, his eyebrow raised.

"No, I would accept someone who had her best interests at heart, unlike some that are in it because they feel she needs saving because she doesn't run around with robes and a staff. My sister is one of the bravest women I know and if she doesn't want to use it, then she bloody well doesn't have to. I don't know what happened, and I doubt I ever will but if you care about her you wouldn't want her to be so much like you," Carver monolgued, glaring at Anders which caused Hawke to look over at the commotion.

Carver left to go and speak with his sister, leaving him and Varric alone with each other whilst they took a brief respite.

"You know, Blondie, if you want to get in Hawke's pants that bad, you're really doing a shit job of it," Varric said as he sat down and tug a swig out of his water skin.

"**I agree with the dwarf," **Justice boomed.

Anders secretly agreed with the dwarf, too.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter thirty- Her lyrium guard.**

**Wow, doesn't seem like two minutes since I started this! Life is going really fast right now!**

**I just name the chapters when I think of a good name… **

**Much love to you guys, your reviews/follows/favourites are always welcome and the reviews I've been getting are why I've been working on this as much as I can without life etc getting in the way!**

**You guys are great!**

**Thanks as always to Enchantm3nt!**

**And thankyou to LostSpace for the help with this chapter! You're fab!**

**X**

Fenris watched her all the time.

He watched her when she walked along the caravans, speaking to some of the hands they'd hired and making jokes with Varric. He watched her speak to the abomination and watched as she avoided sleep and food. She had become inseparable from Carver as the days went on. One time she had even attempted to accompany Carver whilst he went to relieve himself, much to the amusement of the Dwarf. He had also snorted in amusement when he had heard the surprised Carver yelp into the darkness and a few seconds later a very scarlet faced Hawke fleeing the armada of rocks, wrinkling her nose and swiftly kicking the dwarf who despite his injury continued laughing.

But the time when he watched her most was when she fought. It seemed like a moment ago he had been Danarius' precious bodyguard and here he was again, but this time by his own choice. He wanted to protect her and that scared him much more than the wraith of his former master.

The evening when they had gotten drunk together seemed far away now, yet he revelled in what he could remember. She had said he was attractive, they had shared each other's pain and without even intentionally doing it, Hawke made him feel like someone of worth. He still remembered her accidental touch, the hairs on the back of his palm standing just by the mere thought of it. But what would become of her when this was finished? When she was a noble's daughter with titles?

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the low chuckle of the dwarf, who kept glancing over at the small oasis of water they had found whilst he polished his crossbow. Fenris had been trying to ignore the dwarf's soft coos to the damn crossbow as he polished it, but the chuckle disconcerted him. The dwarf had moments when Fenris would question what else he did to his weapon.

"Something amusing or are you laughing at yourself again dwarf?" Fenris asked, sharpening his blade as he eyed the dwarf suspiciously.

"Nothing, just Junior having to guard his sister whilst she bathes," Varric said, looking from behind the boulder with an amused grin on his face.

"And what is so amusing about that?" Fenris asked, confused.

"Well he hasn't anticipated dwarves, and there's a bunch of them trying to sneak past him. Can tell he didn't inherit the Hawke brains…" Varric said, his face crinkling into another chuckle as he gestured over to a group of dwarves who were hiding behind boulders, hidden from the watchful eye of Carver Hawke.

"CARVER!" Fenris shouted, alerting the young Hawke who turned his head quickly, and finally noticed the invading dwarves. Carver grabbed one of the many stones that were scattered around the pool and launched it at the dwarves with precision, hitting what Fenris assumed to be the leader hard in the face.

In blind panic and laughter the dwarves ran towards the camp, grabbing their injured partner in crime with squeals and shouts as they clambered over the water and stones in roguish amusement.

Fenris rolled his eyes. He was glad he watched Hawke because as much as he respected Carver Hawke, he could see why the boy fell in love with a blood mage…

….

Tunnels, rocks, more tunnels and even more rocks, it seemed to never end. Varric's brother spoke of rewards and riches on this expedition and in the past week the only thing Fenris saw that was even the slightest bit rewarding was the abomination –too distracted by trying to impress Hawke with his monologue on the purity of healing magic- falling into a small ditch face first into a rotten corpse, much to the delight of the rest of the party. Hawke had tutted at them and helped him out, but even she could not deny the hilarity of the abomination's face, which was covered in aging entrails.

When they finally reached the last tunnels that would provide them with a satisfactory entrance into the thaig, they found that all of the tunnels were blocked by boulders or by darkspawn. When the scouts returned, one of the braver dwarves came close to Bartrand and explained that there was no way past the blockage without meeting darkspawn or boulders, which had rewarded him with Bartrand's fist. Fenris rolled his eyes at the sight of the dwarf; of all the ways that Bartrand could have reacted he had chosen the one that would use their much needed supplies on healing broken noses and busted lips.

It seemed Varric (like Carver) was good at handling his hot-headed sibling. Varric muttered soothing words and an offer of himself and Hawke with a small party to go and clear out of one of the tunnels. Hawke scrunched her nose up and scowled at Varric, but sighed in defeat as she knew there was no other way around the present situation. The alternative would be to wait for the hired hands to clear the rubble and then meet a horde of darkspawn.

Before they left for the tunnel, they were met by one of the merchant dwarves who begged for Hawke's aid in finding his son, Sandal, and of course, she obliged (though Fenris thought it most likely that they would find his corpse and have to drag it back to his father). Fenris did not understand how Hawke always agreed to help these people who gave her so little in return.

These weeks had been rough for Fenris, yet he had been in more dire situations. This particular dire situation was made better by most of the company he was with (he would rather skip through hot coals than spend time with the abomination) and he enjoyed the view that Hawke had to offer. He found her confidence surprisingly attractive. Hawke knew she was beautiful, but did not use it like many others would. What also surprised him was that Hawke seemed to be living off the dirty air of the Deep Roads, barely eating or sleeping for days.

Fenris sucked in his breath as they entered more tunnels; the dust motes that floated around were as large as some of the birds in Kirkwall. Fenris watched Hawke as she tried to hide her discomfort, her nose wrinkling as she tried to stifle her cough. Fenris would have normally given a bemused snort at the sight of her, but in the present situation even a snort could cost them their lives to what hid in the darkness.

Hawke was exhausted; he could tell that from just glancing at her. Her skin seemed to be a dull grey, emphasising the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked malnourished, her neck tight as if her skin was too small to cover her bones.

He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he wished he could offer her some comfort.

She turned to face them with grim determination. She did not speak out loud, but Fenris could almost feel her thoughts as she swirled back round unsheathing her daggers that desperately needed sharpening.

She stepped into the shadows and he readied himself for the onslaught that was to come. For a moment, he was shocked at how easily he followed her without a second thought and then he shook his head.

_She would take him to stranger places, he was certain of that. _

He would sharpen her daggers later.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter thirty one- The Primeval Thaig**

**Sorry for my chapters being so short! But I've split the Deep Roads into different viewpoints just to create a bit more character insight. **

**Huge thanks to you guys, who followed/favourite/review my work! And the guys that just read it! You guys are great!**

**Thank you to LostSpace for her help with this chapter and a thankyou to Enchantm3nt as always. **

**X **

Hawke had grown accustomed to the tune of lyrium, it was one of the parts of her magic she could not pretend did not exist, and down here it sung all around her. She had heard it dance in the sinews and veins of templars and mages alike, listened as it bubbled in glass vials and even heard it in Fenris. The lyrium drummed in time with his heartbeat, crashing alongside the blood in his veins.

But the lyrium she could hear now was wrong; it beckoned her to touch it, for her to feel its song. She tried to ignore it, but the deeper they tunnelled the louder it sang.

She looked at Anders from the corner of her eye. The former Grey Warden was on tenterhooks, small beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and the corners of his eyes were crinkled as he tried to concentrate. She regretted bringing him down here. Being a mage was bad enough, as the lyrium song buzzed in her brain, but she could not imagine the hell Anders was going through with the singing and the taint combined. She prayed that Justice was at least keeping him strong.

The tunnels leading to the Thaig were decrepit; rocks and rotting corpses scattered casually like flowers in a garden. _ It was just like any other great legacy that has walked this world. _It unnerved her that there was a lack of darkspawn, it felt like they had killed a horde just to get to this point; it put her on edge that whatever they were walking towards scared the fuck out of the most tainted creatures in Thedas.

She cast a nervous glance at her brother, who seemed cheerful but silent. She knew Carver was missing Merrill and Mother and civilisation and fresh air. She had to agree on the latter. It felt like decades ago that she had been walking around Kirkwall alongside Spike with the sun blazing down on them. She worried about the danger she had put her little brother in, and if she could she would shove him in a box and tell him to come out when it was safe. She had made her promise to him though, and he was his own man now, but it didn't stop her from almost soiling her drawers every time an enemy got too close.

Varric was also unusually silent, looking at the destroyed Thaig with bored eyes. He seemed unlike his brother, who appreciated the work of the ancient dwarves, and Hawke really couldn't blame him. As much as she was curious about the dwarves and their legacies, she would much rather stumble on a mountain of gold and get out of this place three weeks early.

Fenris made a snort into the darkness that attracted her attention but he seemed lost in his own soliloquy of thoughts. Despite how much she wanted to ask Fenris about what exactly he thought was going on between them, Fenris seemed like the type who was better off on his own to ponder things. It was madness, the whole whatever it was between them.

"DARKSPAWN!" Anders cried, lifting his staff up at the enemy's general direction and snapping Hawke out of her thoughts which she was, for once, grateful for.

She flung her daggers into the fight, rolling herself into the fray with great ease. The fight had become a game to her. The darkspawn were mindless, but what they lacked in tactics they made up for in brute strength. She divided her attention between the two warriors, slashing at opponents when the opportunity arose. Fenris snarled as he hacked his sword into a hurlock's chest, his tanned skin shining blue and reflecting off the silver of Carver's greatsword. Carver, like Fenris, was slicing away the darkspawn with a feigned ease. She almost rolled her eyes at the sight of her brother and Fenris silently competing with each other.

She noted the contrasts in the two warriors. Although they both fought with greatswords the differences in their stances spoke volumes about them. Where Carver's technique was skilled with the precision that came with being a soldier at Ostagar, Fenris' prowess was somehow majestic. His stance was controlled and perfected, and she wondered how long and how much he had to endure for it to be this way. Just the thought made vomit rise to her throat.

The last enemy fell to the ground and Fenris shot her a blood soaked smile, red staining his white hair. She looked up at her own hair, fingered the red streak in her fringe and threw him a smug grin in return. They stood there for a moment grinning at each other, almost euphorically, until they were snapped out of their daze by Varric's loud humming. She rolled her eyes at the dwarf who held a wicked grin on his face as stared at her.

"Problem my dear dwarf?" she asked, viewing him with a look of mock indifference. She knew that he wouldn't let her live this down anytime soon.

"Nothing, nothing at all Hawke," Varric said, his smile sweeter than normal.

"I see, just humming whatever the fuck's going to eat us beyond this tunnel to sleep then?" she suggested, her grin roguish as she started her usual banter with her favourite dwarf. It was one of the great things about Varric; he could diffuse the tension quicker than Isabela could remove her knickers…

_And Isabela didn't wear knickers. _

They advanced through more tunnels and were greeted by a darkspawn ogre frozen on the spot, ice cementing its body as still as a statue at the main entrance of the Primeval Thaig. In front of it stood a small dwarven boy, picking his nose idly as he viewed Hawke with an easy grin. What shocked Hawke most was that there was lyrium thrumming like fireworks in the boy.

"Is he a- ?" Anders began, but seemed to lose his words just by looking at Sandal.

"Holy shit," Varric said under his breath.

"Maker's fucking balls! Sandal, right? I have to admit I'm curious to know how you did that." Hawke asked, peering down at the smiling boy who seemed unphased by whatever had transpired.

"Not enchantment," he said in a low whisper, causing Hawke to let out a low chuckle.

"Right, Varric you can take Sandal back to his father and tell that fucking arse of a brother of yours that we've found a way in. Don't fucking look at me like that dwarf, I'd rather you stick Bianca up my behind and shoot right now than have to speak to your brother," she said, trying to stifle a yawn.

She didn't know how long it would be before she collapsed on the floor due to exhaustion, but even when she tried to sleep the nightmares that she thought were long gone floated into her mind. Sometimes new ones would replace them, but they would always end the same. She would wake in a hot sweat, looking around at her sleeping companions before rolling over and pretending she was asleep.

Varric mock saluted her and, with a nod, left with Sandal. At the sight of him leaving, she let out a huge sigh and slumped to the floor without a second's thought. She'd been keeping most of her morale up for Varric, who seemed to hate the Deep Roads more than Anders.

She huffed at the present situation as her brother joined her on the ancient floor of the Deep Roads; whilst they sat in silence for a moment she watched as Anders and Fenris eyed each other with narrowed eyes, disgust painted on both of their faces as if they were mirroring one another. Hawke prayed they wouldn't argue yet. She didn't have the energy to stop them even if she tried. It was ironic when she looked at it, that both of these men fought for some form of freedom yet despised each other so deeply.

"How are you doing, Az?" Carver asked, scanning her face with worried eyes. She turned to look at her brother and was relieved to see he was faring well. Dirt was smudged on his youthful face, but apart from the odd cut he was fine. She thanked whatever the fuck was up there for that at least.

"I'm fine brother dear, don't you worry about me. But I think we should worry about this place, even I can feel there's warped magic here. There's something wrong," she said, casting her eyes to the shadows, searching for the source of the distant thrum of warped lyrium.

"I can feel something, but I don't know what. It's like a vibrating on the ground. Maybe we're just all tired and its paranoia and fatigue getting to us? Maker, please let it be that," Carver sighed, throwing one of the rocks that had strayed far from the debris of the ruined Thaig.

"I wish, we know for a fact it's going to be a dragon and a horde of darkspawn or maybe it's whatever makes the darkspawn? Maybe we're going to meet their parents and then we're going to be the appetisers for the Archdemon or whatever those fuckers come from," she exclaimed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Yet, she still knew the chances of it actually happening were more than likely. Speaking from past experiences, they were very likely; the last time they had to engage darkspawn in battle outside of the Deep Roads they had met a dragon...

"Maker's breath Az, any positive outcomes for once?" Carver asked.

She started to think of a reply but was cut short by Anders' worried whisper, "Can you hear it? The lyrium… it's wrong. It feels like it's sick or infected. And it's coming from that bloody Thaig," he said as he looked beyond into the grand hallways of the Thaig.

"Ever encountered such a thing when you were a Grey Warden?" Carver asked, eyeing Anders and where he was staring with a worried expression.

"No," Anders replied.

She heard the caravans before she saw them, and found herself shaking her head at the sight of only two of the caravans joining them deeper in the Thaig. This meant that most of their supplies would be at the main camp; this also meant that they would have limited food and other vital supplies. She rolled her eyes at the idiocy of dwarves, but greeted Varric and his brother with a smile on her face.

….

She could still hear the thrumming, even when she sat down to finally eat. Her stomach gurgled with appreciation, but she still worried for her brother. She watched him as he ate his meal, chuckling at whatever Varric was whispering to him. Her head tilted in curiosity, but before she could ask the two what they were whispering about Anders joined her by the fire, eyeing up Fenris who was sharpening his blade by one of the bedrolls they had laid down for comfort rather than sleep.

"If your life depended on it, would you use it?" Anders asked, staring at her intensely, the curiosity burning in his face. She knew what it was without even having to ask. Anders frequently asked her about her use –or rather lack of use- of magic.

"I suppose I would, why?" she asked, trying not to roll her eyes in irritation, though she knew he meant well. It was becoming the only thing Anders would speak about, the plight of the mages.

"I wondered that's all. I just don't want you to let yourself die because of your own beliefs," he replied. And for a moment she thought she could see the hot blue of Justice burning in Anders' eyes.

"I would say the same for you," she said coolly, brushing a strand of her fringe to the back of her ear. She wanted to point out the hypocrisy that was Anders and Justice combined, but she did not have the stamina to keep up with what would be a very heated debate.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the thrum of lyrium and sour screech of Fenris sharpening his blade. It was nice for a moment, but she was soon crashed back into the reality that was the Deep Roads by Varric speaking with his brother, offering that they once again scout ahead. She was tired, tired of the Deep Roads, and the darkspawn and most of all of fucking Bartrand. She took a deep breath and remembered the riches and rewards that were yet to come.

She walked up to her supplies and found herself surprised when she saw that her belt was full to the brim with supplies. Her eyebrows almost hit the roof when she noticed that someone had sharpened her daggers, which she had been meaning to do for a few days now. She looked around at her companions, who were all preparing themselves for more tunnels and darkspawn, wondering who it could have possibly been. It couldn't have been Carver; he was with her ninety percent of the time. Varric had been pacifying his brother (something which he had been doing most of the journey here). She peered over at Anders for a moment, and almost felt bad for her icy words earlier when he spoke of her magic, and then realised he didn't have the skills to sharpen her daggers so adeptly.

_And then she realised, it was obvious all along. _

She glanced over at Fenris, who was putting his own blade on his back. He stared at her for a moment, his deep green eyes almost glowing in the half darkness of the Deep Roads. She looked at him and then to her daggers as if asking the question telepathically and he nodded his confirmation.

She wrinkled her nose at the butterflies in her stomach; it was not every day that someone watched her back like that. Even Carver hadn't thought about her daggers and he watched her just as much as she watched him. It made her wonder about how Fenris felt about her, to go as far as to sharpen her weapons. She wished they weren't in the blighted Deep Roads, she wished they were back in his mansion with brandy and wine and whatever the fuck else they drank that night.

Emotions, they were too complicated. They reminded her of an adrenaline rush, she seemed to enjoy them and rejoice in the euphoria of the moment but when they died down she had as much courage as a sewer rat.

One day she would get her riches and rewards and she would have to repay him somehow…

A/N- **I am so sorry for dragging this out! Love you guys so much and your support! You're awesome! I promise when they do start to romance, it will be fluffy… Until it all goes downhill again… Poor Hawke/Fenris!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32- **

**As always, I want to thank my readers for their reviews, follows and favourites! **

**If you have any suggestions, feel free to message me. **

**I would like to thank LostSpace for her help with this chapter! You're an amazing beta!**

**Hope you enjoy this!**

Red veins spiralled along the ancient thaig, decorating its decrepit walls. It reminded Hawke of moss, infecting whatever space it could with no one to stop it for at least a millennia. The thrumming inside her mind grew stronger as they journeyed deeper, and she prayed to the Maker that for all that they had been through these past few weeks they would conclude this expedition with a tower of gold bigger than the chantry back in Kirkwall.

She almost laughed at herself, but bit her tongue in restraint. Of course, it was just so cliché of her to hear a formidable sound and, instead of walking away from it, she decided to skip along, and even drag her younger brother, towards it. She glanced over at Carver and realised that, annoyingly once again, her Mother was right and Carver shouldn't have come down here. He would have been safer back there with Merrill and Mother. Then again, maybe he would have rather faced the darkspawn then their mother's distaste of his choice of lover. She wondered what her mother would say if she ever brought a lover back? Her mother would probably die in shock that she had allowed another being into her life that wasn't related to her.

They travelled onwards in silence. Hawke didn't know whether it was from the fear of attack or just because no one had anything to say to one another. The weeks had been trying for their group, which was to say the least. Constantly having to tiptoe around Bartrand as if he were a sleeping dragon, mediate between Fenris and Anders, who were always on the verge of fighting one another, and attempt not to die or become a victim to the taint that lived down here as a free as a Dalish elf in a forest on a summer's day.

She viewed her companions, who walked behind her almost dutifully, and almost cringed at their exhausted eyes. It was by her request that they were down here and all of sudden she felt somewhat guilty about that fact.

"Hey, just thought of something really positive about this business venture, Varric," she whispered as she strode over the bigger boulders and debris with feigned ease.

"And what's that, Hawke?" Varric replied, having to climb up the boulders rather than just step over them like she had done. Maker blessed she wasn't a dwarf…

"We could always renovate this into a lovely holiday getaway for the mentally deranged or ultimately evil," she cajoled, trying not to look at Varric struggling over the boulders. On a normal day, she would have laughed at the sight of him, but given the circumstances she only allowed a snicker to escape.

"Ha-ha, really funny, Hawke. You should be glad I'm such a good writer because half of the shit you say just makes you seem like a really sarcastic ass ninety percent of the time, kid," Varric said as he scuttled past her to start his work on the door. Varric was ten times better than Hawke at lock picking and had the patience for it, which Hawke certainly did not.

"Varric, how condescending of you! Calling me kid… it's quite ironic that you would be looking down on me, since, well, you know… the whole being, like what? Three foot tall?" she replied, the corner of her lips tugging upwards into a smirk. Anders grinned with amusement as he walked towards her. Carver followed behind him, shaking his head at her and Varric's banter, as he always did.

"Sister, one of these days you're going to suffer for that sarcastic tongue of yours," Carver said, his smile the perfect oxymoron to his words.

"But until then sweetheart, carry on as you are! Never have I known a woman to argue with a dwarf about his height in the middle of the Deep Roads, actually I take that back..." Anders said, drifting off into his own thoughts.

"Shit," Varric replied from a few yards away.

"Finally broke a lock pick, have you?" Hawke called over from around the corner. She started to ready herself for whatever fight they were about to face beyond the door whilst they had nothing else to do but wait. A locked door was never an omen of good things after all, and she would rather be prepared and live than to not be prepared and die in a puddle of her own blood.

"Hawke, you might wanna come here. Shit," Varric whispered, making Hawke's hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. Varric was never serious, and if he was, then it would have to be on a pretty fucking bad day. She turned around the corner and walked towards the doorway. The door had been cracked open a small amount by Varric, who had his head stuck in the crack viewing whatever lay ahead. Her stomach dropped in anticipation, and she prayed to the Maker that Varric's exclamation was because of the shock of stumbling across a mountain of gold. She didn't want to think of what else it could be…

She moved to the crack of the door and her stomach dropped to her ankles. There, sleeping in the middle of a grand hall, lay a dragon the size of a mansion accompanied with an entourage of baby dragons, which didn't even their odds one bit. She tried not to gasp in shock, but slowly tiptoed around the corner and beckoned her other companions towards the door where Varric stood, completely still and silent, which was a rare event for Varric.

For a moment, they all just stared at the dragon as if they were all hallucinating. It was Anders who finally spoke, breaking the silence with a very hushed whisper.

"Anyone got any ideas how a dragon got stuck down here?" he asked, looking around for confirmation that they could all actually see what he could.

"Let's not think about why, and let's discuss how in the name of Andraste's pantaloons we're going to either get past that beast or destroy it," Hawke replied, still in awe of the beast in front of her.

"Dwarves were said to guard their homes as if they were shrines to the Paragons themselves. Is it not apparent that the dragon may be here to guard something?" Carver added, scrunching his face up in annoyance as he took in Anders' expression.

"Yes, well, I don't like my chances against this particular enemy, Hawke," Anders said, eyeing up the snoring dragon.

"You do not like your chances against any enemy, abomination. Hawke, why must you align yourself with a coward?" Fenris hissed. Hawke chose to roll her eyes in reply.

"Shut up," Varric interjected.

"Thank you Varric. Took the words out of my mouth! Maker's sake you're adults, maybe it's time to put our differences aside and- wait, the snoring-it's-" she swivelled her head around and looked through the crack of the door.

"MOVE!" Varric began to shout, but most of the syllables had become inaudible over the screech of the awoken dragon. It reared its head in annoyance and breathed fire towards the door with precise aim. Hawke ran around the corner with the rest of her party right behind her, struggling for breath. As she leant against the wall, she attempted to get a better view of the dragon and the exact location of its children.

"So, any more bright ideas, Hawke?" Varric asked, hiding behind one of her legs as they leant against the decrepit wall that was their only protection.

"We have run out of choices, it seems, Hawke," Fenris said, his words ringing of truth.

"Ugh, Varric serious and Fenris right; today is not a good day. Anders, fancy hugging Fenris? Just so I can die knowing it was the madness rather than the dragon that did me in in the end," Hawke sniped, flicking her head at the dragon and its kin who were attempting to break down the doorway so they could get through.

"Sister, please tell me you have an idea that will get us out of here unscathed," Carver pleaded. Her heart almost broke at the sight of her younger brother scared. Regret rumbled in her empty stomach as she looked back at the dragon that was waiting for them at the edge of the door. Thank the Maker the dwarves made sustainable walls, because if it weren't for said walls they'd be all fleshy pancakes by now.

_The worst kind of pancake. _

"Well, I have several ideas. The one that's becoming much more appealing is that we just sound a retreat and maybe see if Bartrand fancies punching the dragon in annoyance… Or we could invite the dragon and her family for tea and bisc-"

"Enough with the fucking tea parties sister! Please, something of substance that won't get us all killed?" Carver snapped, his brows furrowed with the situation and how she was handling it.

"Well, if that's what you want, then I suggest retreating and leaving this place," she replied as calmly as she could, despite the hungry dragon that waited for them in the hall beyond them, occasionally flaring fire towards the doorway every now and then to let them know it was still waiting.

"Nothing? You have nothing?" Carver asked, shocked.

"Look Junior, I think we get the idea of what we can do here! We either run back like little girls with our knickers in a twist to Bartrand and deal with his shit, or we go forward and deal with the dragon!" Varric said, already getting Bianca out in confirmation of his agreement of the latter.

"Riches and rewards… big risks remember?" Hawke added, smiling down at Varric as she unsheathed her daggers.

"That's right partner," Varric answered, his grin as wicked as ever.

"Hawke, you cannot possibly think that you stand a sufficient chance against that beast?" Fenris questioned her with a tone of incredulousness.

"For once I agree with him," Anders added, looking at Hawke with bewildered eyes.

"Oh boys, you seem to have overlooked one big factor in this plan," Hawke said, her grin widening at the sight of Fenris, Carver and Anders pulling the same confused face in unison.

"I'm mad," she said, and with a grin she advanced towards the doorway, Varric already on her heels. As she approached the doorway she heard the unsheathing of metal, and the tired sigh of Anders as the rest of her party advanced with her.

At the sight of its prey charging towards them, the dragon reared its head upwards, flicking its tail back and forth with intended menace. It stomped towards them with obvious intent and a wave of dragonlings following suit.

Hawke found herself suppressing the urge to laugh. _The Maker had a sense of humour, at least. Here she was, about to face a dragon accompanied by a dwarf that hates the Deep Roads, an escaped elven slave, her sibling who loves an elven blood mage and an apostate Grey Warden that is the vessel for a spirit. She doubted even Varric could make this up. _

She threw her smoke bomb and dove into the darkness that Anders' wisps could not reach, running along the side-lines waiting for her chance. She heard the distinct war cry of Fenris, and soon heard the clang of Fenris and Carver's greatswords as they advanced. She stood by Varric and Anders, helping them clear out the majority of dragonlings with the help of her trusty grenades and throwing knives. It was almost a hunt, and the dragonlings, which were not as fierce as their mother, dropped to the floor with the flick of a knife.

Hawke laughed as the adrenaline hit her, but her amusement did not last long. She saw her brother's stamina running low and panic hit her like ice cold water. She didn't know what to do. Her skills were not of a warrior but of stealth and daggers. Not much of a match for the bulky scaled beast that thrashed before her.

She looked in her belt and launched a grenade at the dragon, but it bounced off its scales and fell on the floor, unnoticed. She ran towards it in the hope to drag its attention away from the two warriors that were being backed into the corner. Sheer panic ran through her veins as she turned to ask Varric and Anders for aid, but found they were still dealing with the never ending onslaught of dragonlings.

"OI, YOU!" Hawke screamed, in a desperate attempt to engage the dragon. It looked over at her with bored eyes and turned back to carry on with its attack. She watched as her brother narrowly dodged its flames and almost vomited at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn't moved.

She looked down at her daggers; they were like needles to the dragon's heavily scaled legs. She didn't know what to do and then she realised. She dropped her daggers and ran towards the beast, summoning all the strength she could from her exhausted body.

She felt the magic buzz in her fingers, waiting to get out as it danced in her wrists. She took a deep breath and let it hum in her fingertips, the current in her palms almost reverberating in excitement as the magic woke inside of her.

Anders would have a fucking field day when he saw this, but she didn't care. She saw her brother and Fenris backed into a corner and it felt like déjà vu. She had to help them both. She couldn't bear losing anyone else.

Hawke forced the magic out of her fingertips and it exploded like the cork from a bottle of champagne. The electricity exploded into the dragon, making its back rigid with the shock that was ripping through its body. She felt her energy sap at the very moment the electricity burnt from her fingers, and the hall started to spin around.

She tried to keep herself standing up in the middle of the fray, but the dragon took its opportunity to attempt to destroy the source of its pain. It charged towards her. Hawke tried to focus her eyes, but the four dragons that spun around in her disoriented vision darted towards her, coming dangerously close. Her vision blurred and she clenched her entire body in anticipation as the dragon roared and its hot breath tickled her face…

_Shit, I didn't think about this bit. _

"Got your back Hawke!" Varric cried as she leapt into a roll, dodging the dragon's feet that were attempting to stomp on her.

She felt the glow of Anders' magic wash over her and felt the tightness of her stomach loosen in relief. Her vision swam back to her as though her eyesight had never been damaged. The dragon roared at the sight of its dead babies, and continued its attack. Anders summoned ice at its feet, holding it to the ground. It screamed its frustration, belting out a blast of fire straight at Anders, who dodged the blast with only a few feathers singed. She saw her moment whilst it was distracted by her companions, and took the leap. She grabbed her daggers and ran towards the beast with sheer determination the only thing fuelling her exhausted body. She climbed up onto to its back and dodged the spikes as if they were the rooftops of Kirkwall. The dragon didn't seem to even notice she was there, too focussed on trying to burn Anders whilst fighting the two warriors. When she reached the creature's vast neck, she sucked in a deep breath, knowing this would definitely be a hit or miss moment.

Hawke screamed as she forced the daggers down, plunging them into the back of dragon's skull. It roared in pain, bellowing and making the grand hall quake at the sound. The dragon sagged in defeat, its energy sapped from their assault.

As she clung onto the back of the dragon, the first person that came into her view was Fenris, stampeding towards the fallen foe with the ferocity that could be compared to that of a wolf. The blue glow of his markings emitted enough light in the dimly lit room to allow Hawke to see his face, and she felt knots tie in her stomach at the very sight of him. He was wild, wilder than any beast she had witnessed. Fenris plunged his sword into the defeated dragon's neck and it fell down with a huge thud that made the dust separate like a tsunami.

She was silent for a moment, the shock of their victory still processing in her mind. She looked at Fenris and he stared right back, and in his eyes she could see herself. They were both tainted from the past and the things they had witnessed would follow them always.

She snapped out of her thoughts and ran towards Carver; her brother would always be her main concern. She looked him up and down for a moment and he gave her an exasperated grin.

"You're alright, aren't you? Anders, come and check him please?" she asked, but Anders was already right behind her.

"He's fine as far as I can tell; bloody exhausted, but fine," Anders replied, smiling his reassurance to her. Anders calmed her in way that she could only compare to her father.

"Thank the Maker," she sighed.

"Shit, Hawke, you're fucked up in the head, but at least you do it in style," Varric added, wiping Bianca nonchalantly as he walked towards them.

"I think she's the right kind of fucked up, if there is one," Anders added, smiling at Hawke.

"I would not think much of that Hawke, coming from an abomination," Fenris added, striding closer towards them with his usual indifferent expression. If it weren't for the blood on his armour you would have never guessed that Fenris had just killed a dragon.

"Oh, but if the crazy ex-slave with a taste for blood says it, you should obviously jump up and down and rejoice," Anders drawled.

Hawke rolled her eyes and retreated back around the corner. They'd left all their supplies in the doorway and the rumble in her stomach told her that sustenance was definitely needed.

"At least I do not throw compliments at her and slaver at her every step like a pathetic dog," Fenris bit back.

"Oh yes, you're a fine one to call me a dog!" Anders replied.

"Enough!" Hawke commanded as she returned.

"And here's another thing, Fenris. Did you not just see what Aria did? She blasted out electricity from her hands. Like it or not, she's a mage. So why should it matter to you what I say to her? You hate us, after all," Anders added, making Hawke wince at his presumption that she would now class herself as one of them. She was Hawke. Why couldn't she just be Hawke?

She wrinkled her nose at the conversation. She knew this would happen as soon as she ran out of options. Anders would of course think that she had decided to join the brotherhood of apostates and dance around turning templars into flowers and wear long robes that screamed "I'm an apostate".

"I do not hate Hawke. She is the only mage I have encountered that does not wear their profound inheritance as a medal; it does not define her or poison her like it does the rest," Fenris said, his voice quieter than before.

His words made her falter from her uncomfortableness for a moment, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. It meant a lot, coming from Fenris of all people.

"And where do I fall into that?" Anders asked, curious rather than aggressive now.

"An abomination? I suspect you already know where you fall in the grand scheme of things," Fenris hissed, his nose flaring in hostility.

"Enough! _Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. _It served a purpose; it's over with now, so we're back to business. Plus, I couldn't do the whole mage shit. Robes are too unflattering, and where on Thedas do you stuff your staff when a templar approaches? Not practical," she commented, shrugging off the tense conversation with a roguish grin.

"Not practical? Shit, I bet Rivaini would sell herself to find out that trick," Varric said.

"Isabela already gives herself for free, what exactly is she selling Varric?" Hawke quipped looking down at her trusty dwarf.

Varric chuckled heartily for the first time since they had been down in the Deep Roads.

It wasn't that much of a bad day after all.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33 – Bartrand the betrayer. **

**So, we're closing in on act one finally! Sorry for dragging it out this long, I just don't like doing nasty things to Carver!**

**Thank you so much for your reviews, follows and favourites. Thanks for just reading it in fact! You guys are amazing! I know I say it every time I update, but it is truly a honour to have such lovely readers!**

**A big thanks to LostSpace, for her wisdom and excellent beta skills!**

**X**

The Ancient Crypt door swung shut with a thud before Hawke was even halfway towards it, her exhausted legs not running at their normal speed. The group was silent as the dust motes settled all around them; each of them processing the revelation of betrayal that had come in the form of Varric's older brother. She had seen the gleam in the older Tethras' eyes as he drank in the sight of the idol; which turned out to be the central hub for the singing they had heard since they had delved into the tunnels closer to the crypt.

She hit her fists on the door in frustration; of course they'd been betrayed. What else could happen? This was what always happened; betrayal by life, death, templar, mage, by everything.

Varric didn't seem to understand what was going on, his reaction delayed as he spoke to his brother on the other side of the door.

"Bartrand, it's shut behind you!" Varric exclaimed, not realising his brother's intent.

"You always did notice everything, Varric," Bartrand's smug voice echoed through the door.

"Are you joking? Are you really going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?" Varric asked, exasperated in his realisation.

"It's not just the idol, the location of this thaig is worth a fortune, and I'm not splitting it three ways," Bartrand replied from the other side of the door. Hawke clenched her hands into fists, rage overcoming her.

"BARTRAND! BARTRAND!" Varric screamed, listening to his brother's footsteps becoming more distant as he deserted them in the thaig.

"And now what do we do? Any ideas, sister?" Carver asked, looking around the room as if there would be a convenient sign telling them which way to go.

"How would I know? I planned for huge darkspawn attacks, not two faced dwarves," Hawke said, her frustration adding tension to her temper.

"Fenris, does your hand thing work on doors?" Anders asked, using Fenris' name in his panic.

"Unless I wish to become part of the door, then no, it does not. Why do you not seek counsel from your demon?" Fenris snapped, looking around at the orbs that Anders had summoned; which were the only thing lighting the Ancient Crypt.

"There has to be a door, a way out, something. You know what to do, don't you sister?" Carver pleaded, looking at her in hope.

Hawke almost cried at the sight of him. She had no ideas, no nothing, but he didn't have to know that. Maker, none of them had to know that. If they knew how many times she just wandered in blind to battle they would probably stop joining her in her work so often.

"I swear I will find that son of a bitch-sorry mother- and I will kill him!" Varric exclaimed.

"Stay here, I'll search," she commanded, gliding into the shadows with ease. She could work with the shadows. She had no fear of the darkness, but did not like the unknown that accompanied them. She turned as a light followed her around the walls, but the humming of the lyrium already confirmed it was Fenris.

"You did say that I would be useful in the dark, Hawke, did you not?" he asked, his voice only slightly hinting humour.

"Indeed I did," she said, looking around the walls and searching whilst he followed her.

"I bet you're thinking you've got the worst luck ever, aren't you? Enslaved, escaped, and then locked up down in the Deep Roads with us. I bet you wish you never agreed to work with me that day, don't you?" she said, her voice full of feigned wit and cheer as she searched for a door.

"I enjoy following you," he stated, his voice solemn.

It took her aback, his words. They rung with sincerity and it wasn't something that she was accustomed to, nor was it something she had expected him to say right at this minute. And yet he did, his words simple but expressing to her a thousand things.

_Of all the things to think about right now... _

She almost jumped for joy when she found the door, and beckoned everyone closer to walk into the unknown…

….

The good news was that as they moved further in, the darkspawn hordes seemed to decrease. The bad news was that the further they went in, the singing grew louder and the apparently fictional creatures, called rock wraiths became real.

She looked around the makeshift camp they had prepared whilst stirring the deep mushroom soup Anders had prepared for them. Varric sat in the corner of one of the walls they had chosen to hide near. As much as Hawke wanted to go near him, she did not trust her temper at that moment. She knew it wasn't Varric's fault, but whenever she looked over at him, she could only see Bartrand. She was furious at her own failure. How could she tell Carver she had no idea what to do? How could she look at him and tell him he might not ever see Merrill again? She couldn't, and she wouldn't. She prayed that luck was on her side.

Fenris seemed indifferent as always, glaring into the unknown and occasionally at Anders. Anders seemed haunted. He was mostly silent ever since the bastard dwarf had betrayed them, only ever speaking when he needed to. She couldn't blame them, not a single bit. She felt exactly as they did, exhausted and infuriated with Bartrand and his greed.

She viewed her brother intensely, watching as he looked at the small fire they had made. He was obviously thinking hard, which was strange for Carver. Normally, he would stare peacefully into whatever came into his view, but now his brow was furrowed and he chewed his bottom lip. Worry did not look good on her brother one bit. She wanted the old days when the only thing that bothered Carver was that, for the twentieth time that month, he'd been kicked out of the Blooming Rose before even getting a handful of the brothel girls.

"Do you remember when I came back that night? I was covered in blood and my leg was oozing green. When Mother thought I'd lose my leg and never walk again because of the infection?" Hawke asked her brother, wrinkling her nose at the old memory. It was always fresh in her mind however. It still haunted her dreams.

Carver winced, but replied, "I told you that you would always be okay, because I'd always be there for you and I would always look after you."

"And what happened then?" Hawke asked.

"I kept giving you the potion and the salve for your scars, and then after a few weeks you asked to go outside and you learnt to walk again. Me and Bethany helped you as much as we could," Carver replied.

"But Beth never had time like you did. Mother was always dragging her around after Father died to keep her company. She needed someone just like I did," Hawke said.

"I don't understand where this conversation is going, sister. Care to explain why we're currently reminiscing of what was one of the worst times in your life?" Carver asked bluntly in his hushed tone.

Every now and then Fenris would look over from where he was keeping watch and she was sure he could hear little snippets with those sensitive ears of his.

"When I was scared, you were there for me and you brought me back to life. I promise you, I will get you out of here alive. And then you can get out of my shadow and make the name Hawke something that isn't famous for a crazy rogue mage smuggler with a habit for mentioning tea and biscuits," Hawke replied, smiling at her brother. Carver smiled back, and she was relieved to see his smile again. It was like pulling away some of the tension that pushed down on her stomach.

"I look forward to it, sister," Carver replied.

…

"Enough. You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need," the stone effigy bellowed. The glowing orb that Hawke suspected to be its eye narrowed on them as they walked towards it.

"Of course, demons. I was just waiting for the demons. I was thinking about the whole expedition and we've had dragons and darkspawn but not demons…" Hawke mock sighed as they advanced, trying to keep the group's morale up with her usual wit.

Fenris growled as they grew closer, but Hawke continued forward. She advanced so she was a mere few yards away and surveyed the demon with dislike, but continued her pleasantries. Some demons did not care for conflict. They asked to be left alone if they were happy with their current victims.

"You are the first thing down here that hasn't attacked us," she said, looking at the glowing orb that stared right back with feigned amusement.

"They will not assault you further, not without my permission. I sense a burning in your soul, brighter than your companions. It…disconcerts me," the demon bellowed its reply, filling the silence with its loud echoes.

"What are these things? I mean, I was kidding when I said they were rock wraiths but now… now..." Varric spoke for one of the first times since his brother had left them, viewing the demon with curious eyes. If Hawke knew Varric as well as she thought she did, she would wager he was thinking that the demon could help them out of here. It was out of the question, not to happen now or ever. A demon would never be happy with what it first offered, and neither were the recipients. Greed was always in the favour of the demons.

"They hunger," the demon stated, "the profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory, feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

"They eat the lyrium down here? That shit is what sustains them?" Hawke asked incredulously. _No wonder they were all fucked up and made of stone. _

"I am not like them. I am a visitor," the demon continued, but Hawke stopped its chat with a raised hand. The demon paused at her hand, though its orb like eye seemed to narrow at her act.

"I know fully well what you are. You are not a visitor. You are a demon, most likely feeding on their hunger," Hawke said, straightening her back in an attempt to make herself seem taller than she was.

"See, that's the arrogant cow of a sister I love," Carver whispered to Varric, who would normally have bellowed out a laugh as loud as the demons booming voice, but instead rewarded Carver with a snort.

"I would not see my feast end," the demon replied, its monotone voice beginning to drone.

Hawke viewed the demon for a moment, thinking about her possible responses to the demon. She could, of course, merely walk past it and carry on as she was, she could accept whatever it was offering her or she could slay it so that it would feed no longer. The latter seemed the most practical to her. The consequences of letting a demon roam free in the Deep Roads would not be one she could take on with ease.

"I sense your desire to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so," the demon continued, as if it sensed Hawke's inner argument.

"Don't bloody do it, demons will trip you up every time," Anders interrupted, viewing the demon with concerned eyes.

"Will I need your aid? You see the idea of working with a demon is not appealing to me whatsoever. I have ethics, even in the Deep Roads. You've already confirmed that there is a way out, and that's past you. So I think we'll decline your offer and take the one where we do get out, just without your help, and everything else trying to kill us," Hawke said, her voice becoming bitterly sweet.

"Well, it'd just be weird if things didn't try to kill us, right, Hawke?" Varric asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but not as cheerful as it was normally.

She turned the corner of her lips upwards, attempting a grin.

The demon looked at her for a moment as if considering her refusal.

"Most unwise," it replied, raising its stone arms ready for battle.

Hawke flicked out her daggers knowingly, and grinned at the demon.

"That's what they keep telling me."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34- The dark at the end of the tunnel**

**Well, I am so sorry for dragging it out but here is one of the closing scenes for act one! Hopefully you'll forgive me for what I've done! Poor Hawke!**

**Thank you ever so much for your reviews/follows/support it's great to hear you're enjoying reading this!**

**As always, I would be nothing without a beta helping me and I would like to thank LostSpace for this chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

Fenris never saw himself as an optimist, and for that he was glad. Too often he saw fools looking on the bright side of the darkness that encumbered their short lives. And yet, right now, he felt hope as they walked onwards. The air around them was no longer inhabited by dust motes, and the smell of rotting corpses became more and more diluted as they journeyed on.

He glanced over at Hawke as she spoke to the dwarf and found the knots of tension loosen as he viewed the corner of her mouth turned up in a grin. It was still worrying for him that he would look at her and feel as he did. During the past few weeks he had done everything in his power to keep Hawke alive. In the first time in his life, Fenris felt as if his freedom was not about running from one place to another. Hawke soothed his inner demons. It was unsettling that this woman had walked into his life and was now changing his ways. Ways he had thought had been set in stone by the trail of blood he left behind.

His stomach dropped as he remembered the goal of this expedition. They had indeed found treasure, thanks to the dwarf's rogue skills. The Hawke siblings would fulfill their purpose for the trip. Hawke would soon be nobility with dozens of men far worthier than he was vying for her attention. Whilst he could not even come to terms with his own emotions; he was birthed in hatred and gore. How could he –an ex-slave, an elf with no income and no real home- stand against the pedigreed nobles of Kirkwall?

Fenris was snapped out of his thoughts by the dwarf who was caressing the ancient stone walls as if they were his damn crossbow. The abomination stood by Hawke viewing the dwarf with amusement on his face, occasionally looking at Hawke in the corner of his eye and smiling at the sight of her small grin. Fenris clamped his mouth shut in a bid to recover his self-control. The way the abomination looked at Hawke was as if she were a prize and not a woman.

A wheezy cough came from the back of him and Fenris looked over at the younger Hawke, who was sitting on a boulder attempting to hide his cough. Fenris did not blame him. If he had a sibling that was as overbearing as Hawke had been these past few weeks, he would most likely be driven to insanity. As much as he agreed with Hawke's concern, he was almost sympathetic to Carver in his plight to have a moment away from his older sister.

"Well? Give it to me bluntly, Varric. I don't think anything can shock me anymore," Hawke said, much to the abomination's amusement.

"Demons, dragons, darkspawn and a giant ancient rock wraith all in one trip? You'll have a bloody good time trying to embellish on that, Varric," the abomination cajoled, much to Fenris' displeasure. He preferred it when the idiot was silent.

"I'd say about a week or so to the surface that way if we're unlucky," Varric said, his voice grim as he looked at her. Fenris knew the dwarf felt as if it were his own fault for the acts of his kin.

"And if we're lucky, Varric?" Hawke asked, rubbing her temple as she tried to feign her usual wit.

"Then we'll step over Bartrand's corpse on the way out," Varric grumbled, as he carried on walking.

"We've been stepping over every other fucker's corpse, why not his too? That would definitely make things seem a little better than they are now," Hawke snapped, raising her arms in defeat as she followed the dwarf.

"Sister? Do you think, we, we could take a break?" Carver asked as he moved slowly towards Hawke, who had frozen at his words. Fenris had seen Hawke express many things whilst he travelled with her, but never afraid. Hawke was not a woman who was easily taken aback; she laughed in the faces of her enemies.

"Anders, take a look at him," Hawke whispered, losing her voice as she stared intensely at her brother. But before the abomination could make his way towards him, the younger Hawke collapsed onto the ground, his legs no longer strong enough to support him.

Hawke charged towards Carver, knocking the abomination back in her desperation to get to her sibling. She fell to the floor, putting her brother's head between her knees and cupped his face with her shaking hands as if he were a small child.

"ANDERS!" she shrieked, and Fenris felt the hairs on his spine raise at the sound.

The abomination walked towards Carver and Hawke, but Fenris could see the abomination's steps were nervous. His arms shook, and Fenris wondered if the abomination already knew what Carver had. He could almost smell the cowardice that rolled off the abomination as he examined the younger Hawke.

"I'm so sorry, Hawke. It's the blight I can-"the abomination started to say, but stopped at Hawke shaking her head in disagreement with him.

"Heal him Anders," she ordered. Her voice was colder than ice and her green eyes like steel as she looked up at the abomination.

"I can't," the abomination replied gently.

The dwarf lingered further away; his words lost at the sight of the two Hawke siblings embracing each other, the older one cradling the younger like an infant.

"It's like Wesley, sister. It's okay. It's fine. Bethy and father will be with me," Carver rasped, his eyes tearing up as he looked at his sister.

"And why could they not take me? Y-you have so much to live for. Why did the blessed Maker not take me? I am tainted already. You've got, you've got…" Hawke began, her voice failing her as she tried not to weep.

"Aria, it's about time, that night you need to move on. I- if you don't I'll- have, have to come back and haunt you sister," Carver wheezed.

Fenris felt as if he did not belong here, viewing the intimate scene before him. He was an idiot. He had spent his energy on watching Hawke, in the attempt to save her life, and forgotten to watch Carver. He had begun to realise how much Carver was Hawke's life.

_Fasta Vass! Everything breaks at the touch of my hand! _

"Fucking haunt me then, Carver. I can't do this without you," Hawke sobbed.

Carver Hawke was a good man. He protected his sister to the death. And though Fenris disagreed on his preference of women, he knew that without Carver, Hawke would surely crack and break. He was her voice of reason, forever reining her to the ground.

"SOMEONE FUCKING DO SOMETHING! FUCKING DO SOMETHING!" Hawke screamed, looking at them all, her eyes moving to each of them wildly. Fenris wished he could ease her pain. His stomach panged at the sight of Hawke, wild and desperate, and it struck something deep inside of him. He felt useless. He was useless. He could offer her nothing. None of them could. It was disconcerting, to see Hawke in her current state, he could only compare it to seeing a lion stripped of its mane.

Hawke's eyes focussed on her brother, her breathing quickened at the sight of her brother's weak form. Fenris could not imagine the pain coursing through her at that moment.

She peeled off her black gauntlets, and attempted to steady her breathing as she stared down at her brother. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration. After a moment she pressed her hands close to her Carver's chest. The blue glow that emitted from her hands died as quickly as it came, but that did not stop her. She continued for what seemed like forever, and for a moment Fenris wanted to believe that it was possible for her to heal him. He wanted to believe that she could make the taint in her brother's veins leave and they could move on.

Fenris knew her desperation, he thought to himself bitterly as he recalled the empty box that was used to bait him the night he met Hawke. She seemed wild, feral almost, as she attempted to heal him over and over again. When she finally realised it would do nothing, she hugged her brother tight, shrieking into the deep emptiness that surrounded them.

"You must do it sister. You know what you must do," Carver whispered, his skin becoming paler by the minute. Fenris knew what the younger Hawke spoke of, and if he knew Hawke as well as he thought he did, he knew she would not allow it.

The silence screamed back as Fenris stared at the two Hawkes as they embraced each other silently. Hawke would never forgive herself for the act her brother begged her to commit; it would be more than a bitter pill for her to swallow. Fenris knew it would be a dagger to her heart; Hawke would not walk this world without her brother in it.

The abomination's head shot up straight from its defeated bow and he searched around the area with wondering eyes. It reminded Fenris of a deer sensing its hunter before the arrow hit.

"Grab him and come with me. There might be a chance," the abomination said, beckoning Hawke to follow. She looked up at him in shock, but did not question what the abomination had in mind. With feigned ease, she picked her brother up and even though he was twice her size she did not complain. Her back was straight and her face unreadable. Fenris did not dare to offer her aid. Hawke was unpredictable at the best of times, and to offer her such a thing would be to call her weak in a moment when she needed to be strong.

She followed the abomination as they journeyed backwards into the hell they had just escaped from. Fenris promised himself if whatever fool plan the idiotic mage had did not work, he would take it upon himself to rip the abomination's heart out without a moment's hesitation.

The abomination's eyebrows were furrowed together and his eyes were strained as if he were seeking something which was not visible to others. Fenris continued to keep his silence, but with every moment of following the abomination into the pit they had just escaped from the urge to let his temper unravel became harder to resist.

"What are we doing?" Hawke hissed as she strode alongside the abomination, carrying the weight of her brother.

"I can sense other wardens around here. They may be able to help Carver- it's a fate better than the one he's close to now, Hawke- he can become a warden," Anders said timidly, as if he was scared Hawke would return to her outburst.

"He would, would become a warden? Carver is that what you want? Brother?" Hawke asked, looking down on her younger sibling. Regret was painted all over her face, guilt smearing along the lines. Fenris knew these emotions well, for they were painted on his face every day.

"Sister, it burns, it burns. I don't want to die. I don't want to," Carver cried, his voice nothing more than a whisper, but in the silent halls of the Deep Roads it sounded loud, echoing amongst the rubble and debris of dwarves long forgotten. Their legacies tarnished by darkspawn.

"Shhh, Carver, it will be alright. I'll sing to you, shhh," she whispered back. Fenris could see the tears falling from her face as she marched alongside the abomination. The abomination walked quickly, like a hunter searching for its prey. It unnerved Fenris how much he found that in this moment in time he hated the abomination a little less. If he could save Hawke's brother, who held his older sister together, he may not wish to kill him every second of the day.

_Just the majority of them. _

"_Heruamin lotirien  
Alai uethri maeria  
Halurocon yalei nam bahna  
Dolin nereba maome_

_Ame amin  
Halai lothi amin  
Aloamin Heruamin," _

Hawke sang her lullaby through the Deep Roads. Her words bounced and echoed throughout the vast passageways. It still surprised him that she was a human who spoke in the elvish tongue well. He did not comment on it however, for now was not the time to try and unravel the enigma that was Hawke. Her lullaby was solemn; it made the already cold Deep Roads seem almost peaceful at the sound of her voice. She was a ghost, gliding onwards as she sang.

The abomination froze to the spot and raised his hand to silence the rest of them; Hawke ceased her singing and stared at the abomination, who seemed to be waiting patiently. The abomination had begun to infuriate Fenris. Why could he not explain himself to Hawke to ease her pain?

The silence seemed to last forever. Hawke began to hum to her brother, who had become silent. His sweat gleaming in the light of the orbs that danced about him. The abomination stared at the doorway they were waiting by expectantly.

Fenris let out a growl in his impatience; did the abomination not understand the foundation of his own brotherhood? The taint would overcome the boy soon enough, and then Hawke would never forgive the abomination.

Fenris' ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps coming closer. They all stood waiting for whatever the abomination said would save the younger Hawke's life. Anticipation ran high in the silence; the only noise was the loud struggling breaths of Carver Hawke.

"Hello Anders," a high and melodic voice from the passageway called as it drew closer.

"It brings me to the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn and now it seems we have found more fleshy things."

**A.N here's the translation of the song, it's taken from the dragon age wiki and I do not own it whatsoever! **

**I feel sun  
through the ashes in the sky.  
Where's the one  
who'll guide into the night?**

**What's begun  
is the war that will  
Force this divide.**

**What have to come  
are fire and the end of time.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35 – A reuinion of sorts. **

**Big thank you to my beta LostSpace for all of her help with this chapter as I found it very difficult, I had terrible writers block and even though she was unwell she carried on helping me! Three cheers to LostSpace guys!**

**So sorry for the delay as I said writers block and a hectic life got in the way, but hopefully you won't be disappointed. **

**Thank you for your reviews, reads, favourites and follows. Every review I get it is like a little ray of sunshine! **

**x**

Amber Amell smirked as she walked towards Anders, stepping over the debris effortlessly. She had not changed- it was as if she had stepped out of one of his memories. She still donned the ceruleanWarden armour that accentuated her navy blue eyes. Her face was decorated with scars from close shaves in battle, but aside from that it seemed like moments ago they had fought at each other's side.

"Hello Justice," she said in her usual dulcet tone. She stared into Anders' eyes, not registering the others amongst them for a moment. Her gaze left Anders and moved across the other party members and lingered at the sight of Hawke setting her brother down on the stone floor.

"Cousin?" Amber exclaimed in shock, moving towards Hawke and Carver with haste. Anders' mouth popped open in shock at the revelation. There was always something familiar about Hawke that made him comfortable around her and now he finally understood. He did not see it before, but now they were standing together he noticed that Amber and Hawke had the same sharp jawlines and the same stubbornness that seemed to be endowed on all Amell women.

"**She has come to take us back, Anders. We cannot allow it,"** Justice grumbled in irritation at the sight of Amber Amell examining Carver with sympathetic eyes.

His thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of larger footsteps and he cast his eyes at the passageway that was now occupied by a small golem- not that any golem was ever small but this one was smaller than most he had seen in various books he had read in the Circle. The golem –who he recalled Amber mentioning was called Shale- looked around at each of them with an air of distrust and dislike.

"I have had you both in my prayers since Ostagar, Aria. I see that they were unanswered," Amber whispered, attempting to touch Hawke's shoulder but was denied by Hawke who swatted her comforting hand away quickly.

Amber stood up then and turned towards Anders with a determined frown. Her eyebrow quirked up as she walked towards him and Anders knew that she was here for the sole reason of bringing him back. Carver's taint was just an added factor into the current situation.

"I was surprised, to say the least, when I tracked you and felt you turn back towards me. For a moment I thought you might have finally come to your senses and agreed to come back with me. Shale believed that you and Justice were coming to deal with me," she chuckled, but it was strained. Anders could tell she was on edge by the way she flickered her hand to the hilt of her spectral sword and how her eyes flickered wildly around the other people as if waiting for an attack. The battles she had encountered in her life had caused Amber to become paranoid and Anders couldn't blame her. From Archdemons to broodmothers and talking darkspawn, Amber Amell had witnessed too much in her lifetime already.

"It still has time to try. Although from the things I heard about it, I imagined it to be bigger. It is covered in feathers -does it want to be a bird? I do love squishing birds," Shale replied coldly. The golem was festooned in crystals and Anders had no doubt that if they were to come to battle the bloody thing would squish him with the same ease it did with birds.

"But no, I really should have predicted something like this. I thought you left this world behind you, you know. I thought you fought for your cause now, Anders, and here I find you in the Deep Roads, yet again," Amber chimed in an almost exasperated voice.

"Not all of us have the liberties of the king's mistress sweetheart, or is it formally Court Enchanter?" Anders cajoled falsely. He knew how to keep Amber on his good side and wanted to play that in his favour. Maybe he could make her see the importance of his cause. She was always a woman who despised violence, which was ironic to say the least. She would rather do things without blood on her hands.

"It uses words such as sweetheart. I already despise it," Shale declared loudly, making Varric snort at her audacity.

"And not all of us are fuelled with the power of the Fade. It must get awfully loud in your head these days," she sniped back, ignoring Shale's comments as she flashed him a spiteful grin.

"Justice understands-"Anders started, but she cut him off with the wave of her hand.

"Justice is like a child in this world. One you have taken into your soul and now he has changed, your cause has become one. But so have you. You have coloured Justice and moulded him into Vengeance. I've been tracking you for a while. I know what you have done. You murdered templars in the chantry! You wish for freedom for the mages, yet you tear down the freedom of others to compensate for it. You and Justice cannot lead a rebellion; no one ever follows a hypocrite. Well, no one that ever lives afterwards," Amber said, emphasising the _no one._

"Your way with words still astounds me Amber. You haven't changed; I don't think you've even aged. The only difference is the hair. You never let it grow so long," Anders murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"Alistair likes my hair long," she replied back sweetly. A bitter sweet reminder of what they were once to each other.

_She stared at him with obvious desire; he grabbed a handful of her short hair and slammed her to the wall with violent force. "And what of your king?" he growled into her neck before biting down on her soft ivory skin. "My king has forsaken my love for his birthright He lies with another to pacify the masses and he should learn I am not a toy for any man to use," she seethed back, her blue eyes ignited with a fiery passion that could bring Thedas to its knees. He met her lips with a heated kiss, their clothes starting to fall to the floor in a lust filled haze. _

"**Enough Anders!"** Justice exclaimed, a mental shudder taking effect over the memory that began to play in his mind. Anders could still recall every moment as if it was just yesterday; Amber Amell had a hold of him that he hoped would be cured.

"Anything for your bastard king, as always," he sneered, his mask of impassiveness dissipating at the memory of what they once were.

"Now, now, insulting my lover isn't going to make me forget. Answers if you please, if you want me to disobey my orders," she chimed, her voice becoming almost sugary in its feigned angelic tone.

"Oh, still not queen then?" Anders asked.

"Oh Anders, curiosity killed the cat. Are you sure you really want to know when Alistair and I will be wed? I feel you should use your time to explain yours and Justice's actions and quickly," she said, her eyes flashing over to Hawke and Carver with a flicker of concern.

"I think you'll find bloody Nathaniel killed my cat," Anders shot back.

"Now that is not entirely true. He was told to confiscate it. He was not told, however, that you would summon a spirit from within yourself to defend your cat's life. I found the report amusing, to say the least. Now, time is running out and I feel as if I may have to force you to come back with me and that would never end well. Answer my questions, Anders. Just because I've seen you naked does not mean I'll back out of my duties," Amber countered, the casualness of her tone suggesting they were merely talking about the weather.

"The templars took Karl just for sending letters. They made him tranquil with no warnings. And then they intended to make me like him too. What would you have done?" Anders spat, ignoring Varric's choking noises as he recalled the night at the chantry all those months ago.

"So your solution was to burn them to a crisp? They were men doing their duty to their faith, just as you were doing your own duty. Why not just flee? Why did you have to kill them?" Amber asked, genuinely curious.

"There cannot be a middle ground Amber. There will be a war, but I don't intend on being its leader," Anders admitted reluctantly. He didn't want to tell her this but if Carver Hawke died today he knew in his heart Hawke would not become the beacon for the uprising. Ever since he had met her he knew she would be a symbol to their kin. Justice protested, but he too knew deep down Anders was right. The boy's death would birth a tyrant, which not even Justice could face.

Amber's face was painted in stark confusion at his words; she flickered to his face and then looked around at the other companions in his party. Her eyes froze at Hawke, who was singing to her brother softly. Amber bared her teeth at Anders, dragging him to one side with a force that winded him in shock. The elf glanced over for a moment at the corner she had dragged him to but turned the other way after a moment of glaring. Everyone apart from Shale was too lost in their own worlds to even care about Anders it seemed.

"You want to make her the leader of your rebellion? Do you know my cousin at all?" Amber hissed, one hand still gripping Anders' arm tightly whilst the other darted to her weapon.

"Better than you do. You were granted the privileges that any other mage would dream of. You have the favours of the royal court in your hand. And what do you do? You use them so you can marry your blighted king," he spat back at her, lowering his voice from the prying ears of both the elf and Varric.

Amber seemed at a loss for words for a moment, doubt leaked on her face as she looked back at Hawke and then Anders. He was glad the elf couldn't hear his hopes, he would destroy them before they even got a bloody chance.

"And what will happen then? What will happen to the rebels who follow her as if she were Andraste?" Amber probed.

"I fight for the mages and I will always stand for the mages. You are the one who could have changed everything. They could have been freed, all of them. Your kin scream and you turn your back on them to be a queen whose subjects hate what you truly are. I will not be taken prisoner; you bloody well know what happens when someone tries to lock me up! I dream of a world where mages can love who they want, without the bloody chantry gracing them with the honour," his voice emphasising the last sentence even though it was no more than a whisper. He watched in satisfaction as her eyes rocketed to her forehead at his answer.

All of her life, everything Amber Amell wanted was always close enough to touch but too far for her to grasp. She had been in love with the King ever since they were conscripted but when he was crowned ruler of Ferelden, they would not permit him to take a mage as a wife. Whilst Amber battled darkspawn, King Alistair was looking to be betrothed, not by his own choice, however, but rather the Court's. They had danced around each other for years and now they were finally together, but so far apart. Anders knew her desires; he knew she would always choose her bastard king.

"And what if this new world crumbles at your feet?" she whispered.

"Then I will take the blame. I am not afraid to die for this," Anders replied truthfully.

She released him at his word and nodded in defeat, returning back to where the others were still watching Hawke hold her brother tightly and sobbing into his hair.

"V-varric?" Carver whispered, beckoning the dwarf to come closer. Varric hesitated for a moment but walked towards him with a morbid expression emitting from his face.

"Yeah, kid?" Varric said, his voice almost breaking at the sight of Carver.

"Make sure you make me look good when you write about this. S-something like I died defending Aria from fifty hurlocks and I rode to the Maker's side on a griffon or some other blighted tall tale you think is good," Carver wheezed.

"Sure, Junior, I'll make it into a story that will put your sister out of business."

Amber turned to look at Anders with glistening eyes. For a moment, Anders thought she would change her mind.

Shale looked around the room as if she was bored, every so often glaring at the elf who returned the golem's glares enthusiastically. Amber walked over to Hawke who looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. After a moment's silence Hawke stood up and stared at Amber. The intensity of both Amell women seemed to cling in the air like the dust motes they had just escaped from.

"Take him," Hawke commanded with a raised voice deep with authority. Anders almost smiled at the sight of Hawke ordering the Hero of Ferelden about. She had a fire in her soul that he almost worshipped; even Justice admired it.

Amber looked as if she was about to argue, but Hawke continued to speak, "I know you are here for Anders, but rest assured if he becomes a danger to others and himself then he will be dealt with, friend or not," she added, as if reading Amber's mind.

"You may not have it in you, cousin," Amber replied quietly, her head bowed as if she was speaking from experience.

"If Hawke does not fulfill her promise then I assure you that I will not lose any sleep at night by ripping the fool's heart out of his chest," the elf interrupted. Amber stared at him for a moment and nodded her agreement.

"Carver, do you understand? Do you want this?" Amber asked, looking down on the wheezing form of Carver with motherly concern.

"Y-yes, I don't wan-want to die," Carver wheezed, his breathing becoming slower by the minute.

"Say your goodbyes Aria and don't bother following us, you're not part of the arrangement. He's not your responsibility now," Amber said, touching Hawke's shoulder lightly.

Amber swivelled on her heel and turned to face Anders again. She moved so close to him he could feel the heat of her body emitting from her skin.

"I will tell them you avoided capture yet again, but if they look for you I will not save you from your fate. We are even now Anders; if we ever meet again I owe you nothing. This is for the man I knew and loved before Justice," she stated in a cold voice.

"You never loved me like you love him," Anders snapped before realising what he had said.

"No, I suppose I never did," she whispered, already knowing that he spoke about Alistair. Her hand met his for a moment and then she strode back over to Carver, motioning Shale to come pick him up. The golem did so without hesitation and Anders found himself wondering how Amber Amell got all these people to do her bidding without even realising they were being used.

Hawke resisted for a moment, not wanting to give her brother to the intimidating golem but after a few seconds she conceded, letting go of him and watching Shale retreat through the passageway with the eyes of a woman older than herself. She was silent, staring at the concrete in an almost docile manner. It was as if she had become blind in Carver's absence.

"It is as light as air! It looks a lot like my old master's friend. It, too, had quite a big nose and was tall for a fleshy thing. Are we even sure it's a he? It looks more like a girl with its long hair," Shale muttered as she walked with Carver laid in her stone arms.

Amber flashed Anders a sad smile and he felt his stomach pang with all the regrets he'd had in the last few years. If only her king had not rescued her and begged for her return, they could have been happy. He was allowed to be happy once wasn't he?

_Not whilst there was no middle ground. _

"Farewell," Amber said to the party, but her eyes rested on Anders and he felt the sparks erupt in his stomach as she looked at him. Maker he would give his soul to have that night one more time, a night where he was young and ignorant of the poverty that encumbered this world. He glanced over to Hawke who sat on the floor. At least he had saved Carver.

Amber Amell followed the golem through the passageway, leaving Anders deep in thought. It was ironic that this would all start and end by the behest of an Amell woman. But he felt it was a better fit, that maybe he had been in love with the wrong Amell woman all along. But both were strong willed, both were fierce and commanded power that most men could not wield, and what could he say, women with power drove him crazy.

"**You seem to have a preference of woman, Anders, and it seems to almost get you killed. Let us hope that this does not reoccur," **Justice droned, wondering when Anders would desert his lust for Hawke for the logic and prosperity of their cause.

Anders silently agreed with Justice.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36 – A series of unfortunate events.**

**So, we're out of the Deep Roads and I literally have three chapters, where I will be hitting a few bombshells and we will be on Act 2 finally! Apologies for dragging this out, please forgive me?**

**Thankyou to my beta, LostSpace for her help as always! I value your help; writers would be nothing without their betas! **

**And a thanks to you guys! As always, your reviews are so great to hear, your follows and favourites mean a lot to me and I'm just thankful I've had such lovely readers! **

The Wounded Coast was a welcome sight to Fenris after days of travelling without rest or proper nourishment. He threw a worried glance at Hawke, who marched forward with empty eyes, anguish painted on her weary face. When they had attempted to fill their stomachs with something on the way back Hawke had carried on walking without them. She did not attempt to wash herself, feed herself or even protect herself. She walked forward with the march of a soldier walking towards an untimely death, rather than a daughter returning home.

He had not said anything to her since she left her brother in the Deep Roads, nor had anyone else. What could he say? There were no words that could soothe her pain. They moved forward with her, never speaking and constantly watching Hawke as if she would burst into flames at any given moment.

Fenris found himself checking on her out of habit. Even though Hawke was a remarkable woman, he still feared she would cave to the calls of a demon. But deep down Fenris knew from the moment he saw her stand yards away from the demon in the Deep Roads with a wicked grin on her face that Hawke could resist any offer a demon made. But every now and then when he looked at her grief stricken face, he wondered if the demon involved Carver in their offer would she refuse so easily?

As the City of Chains came into sight, Hawke froze to the spot, staring at the city with scared eyes. The dwarf -who had not even bothered to say a single word the rest of the journey back- looked at Hawke with a guilty conscience. Fenris knew the dwarf blamed himself for the events that had transpired in the Deep Roads, but they were not his fault. The fault lied with his brother, and Fenris swore when Varric reunited with his brother he would personally help him kill him in as many ways possible.

A sudden shower -which was not rare on the Wounded Coast- started to bolt down, but Hawke still stood motionless despite the rain drenching her rapidly. She was paralysed to the spot. Fenris wished that he could make her feel better or offer some condolence. He prayed that Carver had survived his joining, that would be of some hope for Hawke at least.

"Hawke, I-shit I just wanna say I'm sorry kid, I really am. I didn't know I- " Varric started, but as soon as Hawke turned her hollow gaze on him he seemed to lose courage, his words lost.

"I'll come with you sweetheart, when you tell your mother and Merrill. You won't be alone," the abomination said in a gentle tone that made Fenris want to hit him repeatedly. Of course the abomination would be thinking of ways to get into Hawke's bed and use this situation to his advantage. The abomination moved out his hand slowly to touch hers, but before he could reach her hand Hawke's black gauntlet ensnared his wrist, and she turned to look at him with cold green eyes.

"No."

"Hawke, you're going to have to tell them. I know it hurts, I understand I-"the abomination blurted out. He scrambled for words as if he was scared Hawke would snap his wrist.

"You do not. You will never. I can't do this without him," she said, releasing his wrist and moving her soaked fringe from her eyes as the downpour continued on.

"Hawke, I know it's shit, but Blondie's right. We'll be there to tell them with you. We can do this together, Chuckles," Varric added, trying to smile at her as encouragement, but failing miserably.

The two men turned and looked at Fenris expectantly, waiting for his attempt to make Hawke move, to help her through this pain. He did not know what to say. How could he? Hawke was difficult on a good day; to persuade her now would be impossible.

"Hawke…" he started, trying to think of words to say to her that would make her move, anything for her to stay in Kirkwall, with him. He bowed his head, he truly was selfish.

She turned to him, and his stomach jolted at the sight of the feral expression on her face. She was wild and angry and it concerned him and thrilled him all at the same time.

"No."

The rain seemed to quicken at her tense refusal and all too suddenly a line of lightening pierced the sky. Hawke became enveloped in a shimmering white light that danced around her silhouette which began morphing and changing its shape. It began to shoot out and reflect in the droplets of rain that thundered down on them. The light became too unbearable for Fenris to look at and he closed his eyes for a moment to allow them to recuperate from its bold glow.

The light faded and where Hawke had stood was now a towering white wolf, snarling at him with bright green eyes. For a second, his hand moved towards his sword at the sight of the beast, but as he heard the abomination's exclamation and the dwarf's curses he realised what had occurred. Hawke's jade green eyes were the only familiar part of her left.

_This woman will be the death of me_!

And then the wolf darted, charging off into the coast and running for the sanctuary of the woods. The abomination chose to follow, chasing after her screaming that she must return, but after a hundred yards the wolf that was Hawke was nowhere to be seen.

He did not run after; he knew she did not want him to. He understood the need to escape better than many, and knew that hunting her would only make her run harder.

Varric looked up at the rain and glanced at Fenris, and was silent for what seemed like forever.

"I think this is going to be the first story where I don't have to make shit up."

…**.. **

Sweat drenches him as he tries to keep conscious, the chemical warfare in his body mounting to the point of no return. Like most things all it needs is a decision. A choice needs to be made. He can't truly describe what is happening to him, but he would best compare it as being trapped in two different worlds. There is the physical world that was full of voices and panicked orders barked loudly and ringing in authority and then there is the _other _world.

The other world is a battlefield, a battlefield in his body. There is himself, his consciousness that writhes around in pain at whatever is happening to him and then there is the singing, the darkness in his blood that spreads like wildfire. It screeches in his muscle tissue and it tears each limb to pieces as it gains more territory in his body. He holds on, he doesn't remember why but he holds on.

He sees Merrill whilst he slips from the two worlds but she is not there. She isn't saying anything as she looks at him but he is happy to see her nonetheless. They were going to be together, he was going to marry her and look after her. Mother would have come around to the idea… she of all people knows what it is like to love someone forbidden.

A voice drags him back in to reality, away from Merrill.

"Get it now! Get the chalice! Hurry, please! No, I don't think this is going to be a proper Joining, apologies, but can you hurry up please!" a high voice buzzes into his brain, and he recognises it somehow. The darkness in his body starts to bubble and he wonders what Aria is doing. He thinks of what she isn't doing, he thinks of anything to keep him thinking of the pain.

She's probably done something stupid by now, he knows her well. Whatever happened that week she went missing has carved something in her soul. He worries for her, even now when he's close to death.

The people around him are panicking and he knows the time will come soon. He knows that there must be a choice. The darkness spreads further and it's getting closer to his heart, and he knows his time will come soon.

He misses Mother, he misses Sister and Merrill but he also misses Father and Bethany and wonders if he'll get to see them again.

"It's too late for him to drink it. We're going to have to inject it!" the panicked voice shouts, the voice holds its own darkness inside itself but it is steady and it does not fight. He wishes the darkness inside him would not fight so hard. He wishes it was over.

There are small pinpricks in his arm, but they are nothing compared to the pain he feels. A new darkness stains his body and it helps the darkness that was already there move on. It's faster now and the pain is so unbearable he can't even scream. He lies there, -wherever there is- frozen and unable to move.

It grips his heart and his pulse becomes erratic, the beating louder than the drums of war. Louder than Ostagar ever was, he was just a boy then. He wishes Aria was with him now. His sister followed him always and now she was nowhere to be seen.

The song begins to make sense, it begins to become understandable. The dialect is long gone, the words are untraceable and yet he understands. The song makes sense in a strange way, and the battle in his soul has been won. The darkness beckons him and he holds it tight. For a moment, his heart beat slows to the point where he thinks it might be the end for him.

The darkness sings him to sleep and he hears the voice one more time.

"Now it is in the hands of the Maker, may he watch down on you, Carver Hawke."

Sleep takes hold of him and he knows a new day will begin.

…**.. **

The rain poured in Ostwick and there was talk amongst the people about how the storm had thrashed for a month. Eric did not usually care for idle gossip but he knew the storm was her. He sat in the tavern viewing the falling droplets that hit the window with satisfaction.

_Eight years. _

Eight long years of working and piecing everything together that his master had left behind, destroyed by the flames all those years ago. Oh he had worshipped Derek like he was the Maker himself, but Derek in all his brilliance had been a fool, and he, Eric, had fixed the flaws in Derek's ideas.

She wouldn't expect it, he knew that. His retreat all those years ago would have boosted her ego and she would not look for him any longer. He smiled into the cup as he took a sip of the water, remembering the weak young apostate he had seen all those years ago. But she had a fire in her soul that Derek could never have predicted. But he knew her now, knew what she was.

As he stroked the rim of the mug he remembered the girl's father, the same bright green eyes, all those decades ago speaking enthusiastically about his theories. How would Malcolm Hawke feel now, as he watched on from the Fade knowing that his daughter had suffered from his work?

But no, the original plan had been changed. Derek's plan did not work and it never would. Eric had revolutionised his master's ideas, evolved them to be better. He looked over at the door, wondering where Alrik was. Alrik did not share the same ideals. Where Eric saw the potential in Derek's legacy, Alrik had begun to shun it and in his wrath petitioned for the mages to all be made tranquil. Eric sighed, he feared he and Alrik would be departing ways soon enough, in a more permanent way than they ever had.

He thumbed the small glass vial in his pocket, the warm glow heating his fingertips. He took a quick glance around the deserted tavern to make sure no one could see him, and took it out of his pocket.

The phylactery shone a dull red, the most it had lit up in eight years.

_Soon, the moment would be soon. _


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37 – act two begins**

**A huge thanks to my beta, LostSpace for all her help with these chapters. If it wasn't for her I'd still have writers block and these chapters wouldn't be here right now! **

**A huge thanks for your reviews, I don't get much time to reply to them but you guys are awesome! I love you all! Thanks for reading/favourites/follows as well! **

**So, I'm going to have Fenris and Hawke together pretty soon! The tensions between them are going to rise!**

The storm had raged on for nearly two months since they had come back from the Deep Roads and still he had not seen even a glimpse of Hawke since she had abandoned them.

For all he tried, he could not blame her. When he, the dwarf and the abomination had told Hawke's mother of what had happened she flew into a grief stricken rage, sobbing into the mouldy chair by the fire and telling them to be gone. Leandra Hawke blamed her daughter for the deaths of both her children it seemed, -even though Carver's was death was uncertain- Leandra had screamed that it was her eldest daughter's fault. Fenris had joined them to tell the blood mage also, and once again had to watch the grief of another woman flinging herself around the dwarf whilst she cried for her new and lost love. Fenris watched these women sob and flounder about and admired Hawke for her way of coping, even if it was ultimately abandoning them. And yet he wondered, he wondered what Hawke would become now that she didn't have Carver to anchor her. He flinched at the memory of her changing into a great white wolf. The way she had used such powerful magic without a problem unnerved him but strangely not as much as he had thought it would.

He rolled over on his musty bed and sat up, viewing the rain as he thought about Hawke.

And yet there had been signs of her being nearby. A week after Hawke's disappearance the blood mage had come into the Hanged Man, thanking Varric for the bangle he had left on her doorstep but rejecting it at the memory of the younger Hawke. Varric furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Fenris knew it was not him who had left the expensive bangle that was from the Hightown market.

They did not see each other as often, without Hawke. Fenris still met the dwarf in the Hanged Man once a week, but busied himself looking for work. He wondered what he would do now if Danarius came for him, without Hawke's protection or companionship. It felt like there was a part of him missing, some small part with a cool demeanour and bright green eyes.

He felt like he was in a dream as he readied himself for his evening with the dwarf. It was like the last part of Hawke was still lingering, meeting with the dwarf every week. And even though he knew it was pointless, he held onto it. He hoped she would come back.

He walked through the darkness of Hightown, his hand twitching for the hilt of his sword at most signs of movement. It was getting darker quicker now, and the thugs and bandits that roamed Kirkwall took it to their advantage. He walked quickly down the alleyways, hoping the shortcuts would help him avoid a fight.

The clouds thundered and spat rain at the stone floors and Fenris felt like he had never witnessed sunshine. He found that the mood was simply poetic to how he felt. He could see it in all of Hawke's misfits when they came to see Varric, their drinks going down quickly and their words each week becoming less. Without Hawke, the abomination irritated him more often, insulting him at every opportunity. It was the abomination and his demon that still stalked the Wounded Coast at night looking for Hawke.

Hawke did not want to be found, and she would not be found until her desires changed.

"Well, what do we have here boys? A knife ear!" a rough voice said from the darkness, causing Fenris to shoot out of his thoughts. He looked up as the bandits stalked out of the shadows, eyeing him with toothless grins.

It had become a common occurrence that without Hawke dominating the streets of Kirkwall others had come in for a chance to grab at the vacuum of power. He rolled his eyes at the thugs. _Some fools will never learn._

He readied his sword for the onslaught of bandits, and began counting them as they appeared from the shadows. Once his count got to thirty he gritted his teeth and charged towards the small brigade of thugs, ready to bring the lyrium to life.

And then, out of the night, the white wolf he had so often dreamed about blurred past him, a streak of white charging towards the onslaught with feral growls greeting the bandits. The wolf snapped its jaw and began to lunge at the bandits who were frozen in shock at the sight of such a wild animal stalking the urban streets.

Fenris snapped out of shock quickly and joined in the fray, the wolf ducking underneath the greatsword with ease, snapping wherever his sword missed. Soon enough, the remaining bandits ran, screaming of witchcraft and demons down the alley from where they came. Fenris smiled at their exiting backs and turned his gaze to the white wolf that was now smeared in blood.

The wolf turned to leave and his stomach lurched at the sight of her leaving once again.

"Hawke, you need to come back. Your mother needs you, Varric needs you. Carver-" Fenris began, but at the mention of the Carver's name the wolf stopped and let out a harrowing whine to the night. He looked into her bright green eyes and could see the pain and anger rushing through the dilating pupils.

"You cannot hide forever Hawke. What do you propose you will do? Stay a wolf forever and watch on from a distance?" he said, and turned around, walking away from the alleyway. What could he say? I miss you too? I want the old days back where I would argue with you, where I could ponder the frustratingly complicated emotions that you created in me, you stupid woman? He watched the wolf flee the scene with disappointment.

No words would make Hawke come back, and even if they could he was a coward.

He avoided the Hanged Man, not wanting to speak with the dwarf or mention his encounter with the white wolf that was once Hawke. He turned back to his decrepit mansion that he was slowly beginning to call home. He would settle himself with a bottle of wine for the evening and see the dwarf tomorrow night instead.

Had she followed him into the alley? Was she watching over them all from a distance all this time? He did not understand why she did not just run, run away from the thing that caused her pain just like he had. Carver Hawke was a ghost in Kirkwall, haunting Hawke and all those who knew him. He felt guilty, guilty for not being good enough to protect Carver. In so many ways Carver was Hawke, just as she was him and he was too distracted by the woman in front of him to see what truly made her who she was. Fasta vass! He should have left months ago. He should have left the moment he knew his former master wasn't here.

As he entered his mansion, he felt someone else's presence immediately. He rushed to his bedroom quietly, enough to startle an intruder but he hoped it was her. Hawke would be the death of him, making him hope like he had for the past two months. Whenever he visited the dwarf he would watch the Hanged Man's door swing open, hoping that she would walk through the door with Carver in tow, mocking something or someone as she did.

She was standing by the window, watching the rain. The rain had raged on for months. It was common for the weather to become wild so close to the sea but a small part of him wondered if it was her doing. Her usual flawless white hair was no longer tied in its usual bun, but loose and knotted, the messy splay lingering down like an ivory waterfall. Her skin was still as pale as it had always been, but with a grey tinge to it now. She turned to face him with intense green eyes, but her grin mocked him.

"The food was getting rather lousy so I thought I'd see what humanity was like again," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I imagine eating raw kill with the organs still intact could be quite unpleasant, Hawke," he replied, easing back into their familiar banter.

"The hunt was satisfying enough," she replied, shutting the window to turn to face him. She sat down by the fire that was slowly burning out, and began to rekindle it. Fenris had half expected her to use magic since the performance on the Wounded Coast, but she did not.

He sat on the opposite chair, viewing her for a moment with unease. He felt almost excited by the sight of her, yet could find no words to express it. She finished rekindling the fire and took the other chair, facing him with a small look of amusement on her tired face.

"What is it, Fenris? Did you expect me to come to your mansion waving my hands and summoning demons? Floating along the night sky looking like an ethereal banshee?" she asked, looking at him with sad grin.

"I expected an explanation as to why one moment you were on the point of a breakdown to then turning yourself into a wild beast that took to the forest for two months, Hawke," he said with a sombre voice, trying to quell out the strain in his voice. He wanted to be angry at her disappearance but he had no right. No right to her at all.

"I think the question should be, why not? I'm sorry is this the moment where we have a heartfelt conversation? Because that's not going to happen. I did it because I did. I wanted to. You all just stood there, Anders and Varric pushing me into the role of responsibility once again and I thought fuck it, fuck them and fuck everything else. And then I decided I wanted to be a wolf, and it happened," she said, a small grin on her face.

"Is this going to be a common occurrence?" he asked genuinely.

"Are you scared I'm going to succumb to demons? Don't worry, I don't do that shit. I find bargaining with a demon really does make your complexion terrible. Mangled faces are not in fashion this year. Apparently though, according to Jean Luc, feathers are in. Do remind me to tell Anders the next I stop by," she cajoled, kicking her legs onto the arm of the chair and letting them dangle off its edge.

"That is not amusing Hawke. I do not worry about your use of magic. I trust you enough to know you are not the same as the kinds of mages I have experienced most of my life. I am worried of what will become of you if the abomination or the witch have their way. Would you speak with a demon if they asked it of you?" he asked, ignoring the wrinkling of her nose as he spat the words abomination and witch.

"No, not for anyone."

Her voice echoed in his mind and he knew it to be true. He still wondered how much it would take to break Hawke. She was a strong woman, alluring and with good combat experience. But would that all matter when it came to Danarius?

"I believe you. I am guessing that you being in human form implies that you are feeling better?" he asked, wishing he could hit himself for the way he had put across his words. It was as if he was asking her if she had gotten over some injury not that she had lost her brother.

"I hate to say it, but you were right for once Fenris," she said, the way his name rolled off her tongue sent shivers down his spine that he could not deny.

"I-ahem, I was?" he asked, not used to Hawke conceding to an argument so easily.

"Yeah, being a fucking wolf forever would have really been shitty," she countered, and he rewarded her with a snort. It was only in the past few months that he realised only Hawke could make him smile or attempt to laugh. Varric had tried but it wasn't the same.

"What did Carver mean, Hawke, when he said he wanted you to let go?" Fenris asked in a quiet voice.

Her face darkened at his question and she stared at the window for what seemed forever.

"Another time, maybe. I think the rain is going to stop soon and I think my mother needs an explanation and to murder me," she said, getting up from her chair and nodding a farewell. He turned around and watched her hips as she sashayed out of the room and down towards the front door. A grin painted his face without him being able to stop it, his lips turning up as the front door shut.

The torrential rain that had been pouring on his window for nearly two months now stopped suddenly. The absence of raindrops seemed deafening after all these weeks.

Even Varric could not exaggerate some of the things she did.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter thirty eight- A mother and daughter reunion. **

**This isn't what happened in the game, but I think any mother who had lost two of her children fighting would not want to lose another because of it. Also, I thought that Leandra was too smooth around the edges in the game, so I gave her a few rough edges. **

**Thanks to LostSpace for the help with this chapter, your wisdom on the matter is much appreciated! :) **

**X **

Hawke entered the mansion that was now her home soaked in the left over shower from the past months' torrential rain. She tiptoed towards the stairs as quietly as her drenched boots would allow her but froze at the statuesque form of Leandra Hawke, standing at the top of staircase looking down at her in stunned silence. Hawke must have mirrored her expression for several moments passed before her mother descended the stairs with a fury that could make an entire army retreat from the field of battle.

"ARIA REVKA HAWKE!" she screamed, as she darted towards her with the speed of someone younger than her years.

Hawke winced at her mother's shout, and all of a sudden the lifestyle of a wolf seemed appealing once again. But no, not this time. Fenris –as much as she hated to admit it- was right about her mother needing her. They were the last ones left from a family that was once full; all that remained was Mother, herself and Gamlen. Although now they no longer lived with the old swine she hoped she wouldn't have to see him as often.

"I have not slept ever since that day when your friends came to tell me that another one of my babies had become a victim to the blight and the other had decided to run away! How could you leave me when I needed you most? How could you be so selfish?" her mother pleaded, sobs threatening to make her voice crack.

"What do you want from me, Mother? Do you want me to beg on my knees for your forgiveness? I am selfish. I am selfish because once again I did not want to meet your disappointment, because everything that goes wrong is always my fault. You go ahead, vent your anger and your blame but can you do this when I'm asleep? Or maybe when I am half asleep? Actually, where's my bedroom? It could help me get to sleep. Maker knows I need it," Hawke replied, stretching her arms out dramatically to emphasise her need to sleep.

"And here it is, once again! Why is it whenever something bad happens, you are never there! You're busy hiding! Hiding behind your sarcasm like the coward you are! Why should you care about what anyone else feels! It doesn't matter does it? All your life you drip sarcasm and run away when things get too serious! Are you dead inside? You abandoned all that love you for what? For time reflect on your foolishness?" mother screamed, her voice as bold as her temper.

Hawke took a deep breath at her mother's angry words, she knew she deserved them but without Carver she felt like a horse with no reins. There was little she could do to control her own emotions and temper without his faithful voice of reason.

"Mother, as I said before I don't wish to discuss this right now, when we have both slept we can-"

"Sleep? I have not slept in two months, you foolish girl! I have had enough of this, this charade! This joke of a character that you play! This lovable rogue who is not hurt or does not grieve for those she has lost! It is like you are dead inside; I have lost all my children it seems! You are heartless! You were not there, you did not tell Merrill of your own brother's fate! You did not tell me of my own son's fate! You did not-"

Before Mother could continue, Hawke felt her temper begin to build like steam from a boiling pan. Mother was quickly becoming a hypocrite. Hawke remembered all that time ago when Mother had abandoned her, told her she would not walk again, that they didn't have time with the farm, excuses after excuses whilst Carver helped her regain her strength and Bethany had healed what she could. How could she put this on her? She had avoided father whilst he laid in agony, not wanting to see his pain. She had left Hawke to read him tomes; she had only come when Hawke began to snap, when the sight of her dying father began to break her.

"How fucking dare you," Hawke started, ignoring her mother's gasp at her curse "how dare you stand there and call me selfish? How dare you say I did not mourn?! When father got sick, I read to him all day and night, when Bethany died I stood there and took the brunt of your wicked tongue! Carver was my lifeline when I was broken all those years ago, he tended to my wounds, he loved and cared for me when YOU wouldn't! When I was infected and destroyed, you ignored me and concentrated on Bethany. When I could not walk because the infection in my leg spread, you left me in bed! And now, when it is all over, when the rest of them are gone, now you want to acknowledge me? Understand me? Go to bed Mother, you'll get better answers in your dreams," Hawke said, gritting her teeth.

"I have always loved you the same, Aria! I cannot understand you, ever since- it has always been different, I cannot describe how difficult it was to me, you were always your father's favourite, he loved you more than he had ever loved anything, then in the space of a month, your father dead and a little girl with the bitterness of someone well beyond her years," her mother said in defeat, rubbing her temples.

"I have reason to be bitter mother, don't you worry about that. I am going to bed if you would kindly show me where my own room is in my house, that'd be great. Then tomorrow, I will go and settle the rest of the money with Varric and-"she started.

"I think not. Did you think you could come home and then run around Kirkwall as smuggler, Aria? You are nobility now, child, and you have a lot of things to atone for! You cannot do that to me, leave me here to go adventuring and running around playing your sword games! I have lost too much. If you wish that life, if you wish to live on the seesaw of life and death, then leave me now. Leave me now child and go back to wherever you hid," her mother begged, her voice slightly raised.

"How can you say that when my seesaw of a life bought you this mansion? All those people that ignored you when you were living in Lowtown and now they drink tea and invite you to their dinners, I did that! Smuggler Hawke did that, and this is my home! I was the one who fought and bled for you!" Hawke screamed.

"AND SMUGGLER HAWKE SHOULD DIE ALONG WITH HER SIBLINGS! YOU BOUGHT THIS FOR ME AND YOU AND CARVER WERE PART OF THIS DEAL! YOU WOULD BECOME NOBILITY AND FORGET WHAT LIFE YOU HAD! COME BACK TO ME WHEN YOU'RE READY TO BE AN ADULT!" her mother thundered, a high pitched yelp confirming that she had woken Spike in her tirade.

The silence between them was deafening, the deep breaths of Leandra Hawke the only thing making noise in the quiet mansion.

Hawke gritted her teeth and then slumped her shoulders in defeat. Carver had begged her to look after Mother on his almost death bed. And she had promised, and once again she had broken that promise. All her life she tried to keep a hold of herself and she hadn't realised how much her family had needed her. Bethany had needed her when it came to training her magic; if she had kept her promise then Bethany would have been more adept and would have lived. Carver needed some time to be himself and to step out of her shadow, and when he tried she had become his. She followed him because she didn't want anyone else to have him. Father had made her promise to keep their family safe and once again another promise had been broken and here she was in this mess. The grand legacy of Aria Hawke was broken promises and deaths. She destroyed everything that came into her wake. Now, there was no one else left except Mother and she knew she could not break any more of her promises. She had promised Mother a life of nobility once they had earned enough gold – she had never expected them to be where they were now if she was honest- and this was a promise she had to keep.

A sad pang hit her stomach when she thought of Fenris, she had promised to aid him when the time came. She had promised as much to Isabela and her relic, Merrill and her mirror… They would all think she had deserted them. They would hate her for breaking her promises. She couldn't do this anymore, she couldn't choose between her Mother and her friends. She sagged her shoulders in defeat as the memory of Carver's gaunt face begging her to take care of Mother no matter the cost, it quelled all the other images that rose in her mind.

"You are right," she said, her tone quiet as she felt the last piece of her freedom ebb away for the sacrifice she decided to make. She bowed her head low, not wanting her mother to see the horror on her face. Maybe this would anchor her; maybe this could help her be normal. She could try to be normal, she needed it. She needed something to rein her in, because if it didn't everything she loved would crash and burn.

Her mother stopped breathing for a moment. Hawke looked up from her fringe and saw her mother's shocked expression. Her mother took a few steps towards her and closed the gap between them and embraced her tightly. She tried to smile but all she could see were her friends' faces.

But Carver's face would swim to the front of her mind, his breathing hoarse as he begged her to make their mother happy no matter what the cost.

She held back her pain as her mother viewed her face, happy tears crashing from her mother's weary eyes. Carver was right, Mother had seen too much; seen too many of her loved ones die.

"Welcome home, Aria Amell."

Hawke tried to ignore the single tear that slid down her face as her mother embraced her once again.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter thirty nine – Sebastian!**

**A huge thankyou goes out to all my reviewers, I value your input and take note of everything you say. Also a shout out to my followers/favourite's and the people who read this story! You guys are great! S**

**And let's not forget my amazing beta LostSpace for her help! I am very grateful!**

Sebastian made his usual rounds around the chantry before beginning his usual morning prayer. He liked to make sure that all those who came to the chantry seeking the Maker found solace in some form.

Even though it had been two months, every week he would glance at the chantry doors wistfully, hoping he would hear the familiar click of Hawke's leather boots and the cheers of the orphans who- like himself- watched the entrance to chantry faithfully. He had heard she had left for a Deep Roads expedition and thought she would have been back by now. He had even begun to listen to the gossip of the regular patrons of the chantry hoping to find some news of Hawke's return.

The children did not laugh as much as they used to. Hawke was something else entirely to them and when she had left he had found himself trying to fill a gap not even a prince could fill. There was so much about Hawke that he found admirable despite her dislike of the Maker. It was clear to him that it was by his will that Hawke had been put in this city, though the reasons were yet unclear.

He glanced over at Mother Petrice, who seemed to be more relaxed now that Hawke's visits had seemingly ended. The chantry mother had stiffened up at the very sight of Hawke entering the chantry months ago and Petrice would retire to her room claiming she had an upset stomach. Sebastian had intended to ask Hawke about this, but their discussion had been swayed by the new book Brother Genitivi had published. Hawke -like him- was an avid reader and it was rare to find someone in this city who had such a refined taste in literature.

The door swung open and before Sebastian even turned he knew it would be Leandra Amell, coming to do her usual morning prayer. He hoped that she would answer his questions as to Hawke's whereabouts, but before he could even think about asking her his gaze fell on the young woman that followed Leandra Amell in suit.

She was decorated in a silk cream dress with white gloves that the ladies of Hightown all seemed to wear these days. She looked dainty and if it were not for the bright green eyes glaring in silent defiance at her mother he would not have even guessed it was Hawke. He paused for a moment, wondering how to deal with the situation before him.

He marched towards her with feigned casualness and hoped Hawke would understand quickly and follow his lead. Before he could say anything to Hawke however he was intercepted by Leandra Amell, who stood in front of her daughter with a wondering look in her eyes.

"Your majesty, I would like to introduce my daughter, Aria Amell," Leandra said, a pleasant and almost proud smile on her face as she turned her gaze to Hawke, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable with her clothing and the situation she was in. It was rare to find a woman who would turn her nose up at dresses and other worldly items that young women found so attractive.

"Please, Mistress Amell, in the house of the Maker I am merely Brother Sebastian. Greetings Mistress Amell, I hope your business was quite pleasant. May I say –not out of turn of course- that you look beautiful today," Sebastian replied sincerely. He would have laughed but that would have been out of turn, he knew how hard families could be.

"I thank you, Brother Sebastian. I wonder if you could show me the orphanage? My mother and I were speaking of becoming ambassadors for raising awareness of the orphaned young of the Blight," she asked in a smooth delicate voice that almost sounded like it did not belong to Hawke. This woman he had met months ago was rough around the edges and cynical about everything, polite about nothing. Hawke had been replaced by a stranger.

"Of course, if your mother would permit me to?" Sebastian asked courteously, smiling warmly at Leandra Amell.

"Of course your majesty, it is such a good cause. Aria is very enthusiastic about it," Leandra agreed, her eyes glittering with hope. Sebastian was accustomed to mothers doting on him, ever since the news that his family had been killed the nobles had taken pity on him.

Sebastian offered his arm to Hawke, who narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips as if she was trying to hold back many blasphemous words. He would have laughed if it weren't for the presence of Hawke's mother and their pretences.

She took his arm delicately whilst nodding her mother farewell. When they got further away from Leandra –who had begun to pray- Hawke muttered, "You're a royal pain in the backside you know, Sebastian."

"Ah, there is the Hawke I have grown accustomed to," Sebastian smiled as they walked towards the small chamber below the chantry that was the make shift orphanage.

"I have to admit Hawke, I'm curious as to why you're dressed like this. I did not see you as a woman who enjoyed ruffles," Sebastian asked sincerely.

"I am not, Sebastian. My mother blackmailed me to be this woman you see. My expedition did not go as planned, my brother no long resides with us," she answered, her voice sad at her words.

"I shall pray for him in my evening mass, Hawke," Sebastian replied, his voice solemn.

"Don't. He has become a Grey Warden, whilst I have to sit here on a mountain of guilt that my mother has pinned on me. He has adventure where I have been caged to be a noble of all things. I am already going mad. I can't do this but I can't break her heart," Hawke spat as they descended the stone stairs.

"It is difficult for me to comprehend your situation. If you need my aid, however I will of course do what I can. Unfortunately that seems to be little, this is a matter of the heart," he replied, wishing he could do more for her. It seemed to be his trait, never being there for anyone. But that was then, and now the chantry was his family.

"I do not wish for your favours. How about a trade? I have letters to my friends, explaining everything and asking them to meet me in three days' time. Mother is going out to a gala but she did not put down she would have a plus one. There are two dwarves that work in the household but I can get out. If you deliver these for me Sebastian, I will help you deal with your family's killers, you have my word," she replied, her usual rough business tone returning.

Sebastian froze for a moment, lost in thought. He should let this go, he knew he should. He should leave Starkhaven behind and continue the good he did in the chantry. But it held onto him like a vice and he could not let it go. Never.

"What is you wish me to do?"

She nodded her reply and with a swift moment shot her leg up and leant it against the wall as she pulled up her dress. Sebastian felt the blood rush to his cheeks at the sight of her exposed leg and recited the Canticle of Transfigurations whilst she grabbed the letters from her stockings. After she regained her composure she grinned at Sebastian who was purposefully concentrating on the corner of the wall.

"You do not want to know some of the things that Isabela taught me to do," she chuckled, handing him the letters gingerly whilst winking at him. And yet even her jests did not seem real, they were too strained.

"I-uh, ahem," was all that he could reply.

"I've done some sourcing into the Flint Company, actually ran into a few. I have documents regarding the contract on your family, however until I get out of my prison that is nobility I can't get them to a dwarf I know that can crack codes faster than Andraste can- well, never mind that. I shouldn't be saying that in her house," Hawke said, her eyebrows quirked in amusement.

"You have my word that I will deliver these to your friends Hawke, I trust you. I am guessing you haven't seen your friends for a long time, if you need to write them letters?" Sebastian asked, wondering whether the loss of her brother had truly made Hawke- one of the few women he had encountered that enjoyed dealing with work that scared even the bravest of men- housebound and disguised as a noble.

"No, I haven't. In fact the last time they saw me I was a huge wolf. So, I guess they're going to be a bit shocked when they see me. Shall we move on?" Hawke replied casually, nodding her head to the orphanage's chambers.

Sebastian stood in the narrow hallway for a moment, the letters still stuck in his hand as the orphans squealed in delight as Hawke entered the room. He followed her dumbfounded. He had the feeling the more he spoke with Hawke the more often he would find himself dumbfounded.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40 **

**So, Hawke's coming back. But will they finally get together?**

**Few changes here and there, I'm going to concentrate on Kirkwall for a while then move back on to Eric's side story. But he will be returning… and it may end badly but whom for?**

**Many thanks to all of you, for your reviews/follows/favourites, I don't get time to reply my thanks but please note I do take everything you say on board as I continue this story. **

**Huge thanks to my amazing beta, LostSpace! Your help has been what's kept this story going! **

The blue skies of Kirkwall became stained with a pink hue as Fenris gathered his things for his weekly evening visit with the dwarf. He was disconcerted at the memory of Hawke's reappearance weeks ago. He had almost hoped things would go back to how they were before the disaster that was the expedition. Yet he did not want to push. Four months ago Hawke had made it quite clear that once the expedition was over she would be a noble. And nobles did not associate with former slaves.

For the past few weeks he had found himself looking around corners and in the shadows, hoping to see the familiar splay of white hair with the streak of red, or maybe the glint of her black armour in the shadows. And yet Hawke was nowhere to be found, she did not come to his mansion again, nor did she contact the dwarf– who was annoyed about the matter to say the least- or the abomination.

A sudden knock at the door woke him from his thoughts and he made his way warily to the front of the mansion. He gripped his sword tightly, though he suspected it was not likely that Danarius would exact social pleasantries before skinning the lyrium brands from his flesh. He inhaled deeply and swung the door open, the lyrium buzzing through the sinews of his arm.

But there was no one at the door apart from a neatly written scroll tied with the Amell crest.

_Hawke. _

He held the letter for a moment before shutting the door, admiring the writing on the envelope. He opened it to examine the letter inside despite it being pointless. He admired her swirling penmanship and delicate letters that she had formed on the paper. He wished he could read the words, he wished he could write as she did. What kind of man could not read? It was a task that an infant could do and yet it seemed impossible to him as he tried to guess the words that were scribbled so carelessly before him.

_Slaves were not permitted to learn, but he was free now. _

He thumbed the letter for a moment before throwing it on his bed and growling in frustration. His temper got the better of him and without even thinking he grabbed one of the rickety wooden chairs from the corner of the room and threw it at the fireplace with a heavy roar.

He was not a patient man and he had been waiting for her for weeks. And now she finally decided to speak to him again after their brief reunion from her months of absence and her chosen form of communication was one he could not understand. This woman would be the death of him over and over again but when it came to Hawke, he would always be a masochist.

He gritted his teeth in agitation for a moment whilst viewing the room in hopes of finding a full bottle of wine for him to consume. He refused to ask one of the other members of Hawke's party for aid in reading the letter. Too many people were untrustworthy or-in the dwarf's case- would spread rumours around the city.

_The Hawke and her knife ear, he could almost hear the whispers now. _

After confirming twice that there was no alcohol left in his bedroom, he stomped towards the front door. The dwarf's supply would certainly be depleted after tonight…

….

Fenris opened the door to the Hanged Man expecting to see the same view he had been witnessing for nearly two years. The pirate sitting on her rickety stool being charmed by some dim-witted fool who wanted to get in her drawers for the night. The dwarf sitting in the middle of the tavern, retelling a story whilst trying to distract the other players of the card game he was participating in so he could cheat. Occasionally there would be the blood mage or the abomination, too. But tonight he was shocked by the sight of the guard captain making her way through the drunken crowds of the tavern and into the dwarf's suite.

He viewed the crowds for a moment and noticed that neither the dwarf nor the pirate were in their usual positions. Something was occurring and Fenris guessed that they too received a letter. He stormed towards the dwarf's suite and barged in abruptly, shocking the pirate who had already unsheathed her daggers at his entrance.

"I'm guessing you've got a letter about Hawke, too, sweetness?" Isabela said, her voice amused by Fenris' brashness.

"Yes, it would seem so," Fenris replied dryly.

"Shit, Broody, I thought you'd have at least smiled! Hawke's coming back! Chuckles is meeting us here in three days!" Varric said exasperated at Fenris' reaction.

"What?" Fenris asked, shocked at the revelation. He surmised that this was part of the content of the letter Hawke had written to him, but it still shocked him nonetheless.

"It's not as simple as that, Varric," Aveline interrupted with a tone of disapproval, "I've spoken with Hawke and Leandra has insisted that she no longer put herself in danger because of what happened to Carver. Carver made her promise to take care of her mother so Hawke feels she is bound by duty to do as her mother asks. She is now Aria Amell, a noble of Hightown to the public."

Varric bowed his head in shame at the guard captain's mention of Carver Hawke and Fenris too felt the prickle of shame in his stomach. The pirate, however, laughed heartily at the guard captain's words.

"Out with it whore, tell us why you're laughing," the guard captain huffed at the pirate's amusement.

"Well, since you asked nicely, Lady Man-Hands. Hawke is coming to see us in three days, and why does Hawke normally come and see us? Because she has some job where we almost get killed or have to kill nearly everything to finish said job. Oh loves, don't be disheartened. You can put a girl in Hightown but she will always come back to Lowtown. She's getting the best of both worlds; she can be Hawke with us and a snooty noble with her mother. Plus, the men up in Hightown are delicious," Isabela explained, casting Fenris a wink that instantly made his stomach jolt in nervousness.

"And has she not thought her mother would suspect something? Leandra is not stupid," Aveline asked the question everyone else was thinking.

"Hawke's good at being sneaky; even I can't find her when she doesn't want to be found. Before you even start with that Freckles, I know where this is going to end. Hawke's mother is going to be furious and they're going to come to blows. Boo-hoo, big argument then they sort it," Isabela replied, messing with her bandana in her hair as if the conversation was so obvious that it bored her.

"Shit, Rivani, you know your stuff," Varric concluded, taking a swig of his ale and eyeing up Fenris' lack of beverage for a second. Fenris waited for a moment and then, as if they had been doing it all their lives, Varric launched a bottle of one Fenris' usual beverages at him which he caught with perfect timing. It seemed he had become accustomed to the dwarf and his ways, despite most of them being annoying.

"Trust me, I learnt from my mother. You and Fenris need to get a room Varric, it's becoming far too intense and I may have to join," Isabela purred, ignoring Aveline's snorts of disgust.

"So, we just wait for it all to fall apart? Hawke and her mother are already on tenterhooks, they may never forgive one another for this," Aveline worried out loud.

"Hawke knows her own mind. You and I both know she is not a woman easily swayed by others," Fenris added. And it was true, he knew that Hawke would not change her mind. At least her mother had not killed her like Hawke was sure she would.

He ignored the feeling in his stomach as he viewed the others in the room with a face masked of emotions. It was wrong that he felt anything for Hawke. Emotions were used as weapons, he should not even think of Hawke in that way. Whatever had been happening between them was dangerous, but he had not escaped his past life to live in a world in which he caged his own freedom to protect it. He deserved a small flicker of freedom.

His thoughts strayed down a bitter route and he thought of Hawke as she ignored the abomination's every advances. He did not think he could bear Hawke looking down on him with pity as she tried to kindly reject him like she did with the abomination.

"I'm going to tell Daisy, she'll be so happy Hawke's back. Maybe it'll get her away from that mirror…" Varric said as he scraped his chair away from the table, nodding his farewell even though they were all sitting in his dwelling.

"I feel Anders will need to know soon. My evening inspection starts in Darktown. I will tell him. I'll see you in three days," Aveline concluded, also taking her leave.

For a moment there was an awkward silence between himself and Isabela. He thumbed his bottle of wine and took a gulp before looking at the pirate, who was smiling at him almost smugly.

"What is it now, Isabela? You wish to guess the colour of my underclothes again? If I have lyrium on my manhood? Enhanced performance in the bedroom due to the ritual performed? It troubles me that you are just sitting there smiling," Fenris asked in an almost exhausted voice.

"You've really missed her haven't you, kitten?" Isabela asked but he knew it was rhetorical.

Fenris stayed silent for a moment unsure of how to reply to her question.

"It's alright, so have I. But not in the way you have, I think. Well, maybe in the way that you have but without the feelings and soppy stares," Isabela continued, her grin becoming wider as the blood rushed to Fenris' ears in embarrassment.

"Even if this were to be true -which it is not- why of all people would you care, Isabela? Should you not be concentrating on which fool will join you in your quarters tonight?" Fenris asked snidely, wanting to distract the pirate from her line of questioning.

"Ooh, that one nearly hurt. Keep trying love. I care because I know whatever the fuck this shit is between you two, Hawke reciprocates it. And Maker knows you two could use a good night in the sack, Hawke might not be a bitch and you might actually smile. And it would be rather delicious, wouldn't it?" Isabela replied, her smile widening as the blush on his ears intensified as if answering her question.

Isabela, for a moment, looked as if she was going to say something else but thought the better of it. Instead she slowly rose and sashayed towards the door and lingered there for a moment.

"You should tell her before someone else does."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41 **

**Repentance!**

**Thank you guys for all your support, it means ever so much to me and it's why I've been trying my hardest to get these chapters done for you before my life becomes even more mad. I'm kind of praying that isn't possible, but you know… **

**Thanks to my lovely Beta, LostSpace for her help. If it wasn't for her then these chapters would not be as good as they are now! **

**Thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites! **

**x**

Fenris sat in Varric's suite with the rest of Hawke's misfits all of whom –like himself- were waiting for Hawke's return with bated breath. The dwarf feigned casualness as he scribbled on the blank velum but Fenris saw through his pretences, amused at the sight of the bespectacled dwarf glancing at the door every minute or so.

The blood mage seemed the happiest in Hawke's return but also seemed distant as she stared at the tavern door wistfully. Fenris suspected that a small part of the blood mage hoped that Carver would be right behind Hawke, laughing about the entire expedition as if it was all just a bad dream. He had not seen the blood mage in weeks, she had holed herself up with her demons. It was one of the many reasons Fenris was glad of Hawke's return. The abomination sat next to the blood mage as they drank their ales, all of their eyes on the door as they sat in anticipation. Aveline had kept them all in check with threats of arrests, amongst other things, these past few months but she did not have Hawke's charisma.

The sound of footsteps coming closer to the door snapped him out of his thoughts and Fenris held his breath as the pirate sashayed towards it to open it and let Hawke in. He had only just begun to realise the way Hawke had a hold of their lives.

The door opened but it did not reveal Hawke. A man in his late twenties, donned in pearl white armour stood nervously with an archer's bow on his back. Fenris could tell he did not belong in this kind of establishment; the man's armour was far too clean.

"Well, if this is her present for being late then she's forgiven. Why don't you come in kitten?" Isabela purred as she leant against the wall, smiling seductively at her new prey. Fenris scoffed at Isabela, although he secretly admired her attitude. When she wanted something she got it most of the time…

"Ah, hello, ahem, you must be Isabela. I should have expected that since I was warned," the man replied, his cheeks blushing furiously.

The abomination looked at the man suspiciously before asking "Who warne-"

But the abomination's words were cut off by the window being sprung open and a loud crash as someone tumbled to the floor. Fenris grabbed his sword in instinct. The intruder –who was hooded- dusted their cloak off and readjusted their head piece, the man who had been at the door ran to the hooded figure in panic, helping the intruder up. Fenris found himself bewildered for a moment but a shock of realisation shot through his spine as he saw a pair of jade eyes staring at him from under the shadows of the intruder's hood.

"I'm fine Sebastian, I'm just used to the sensitive glass of Hightown these days," Hawke huffed, gripping hold of the man's arm for a moment and then letting go as she lowered her hood. Fenris' stomach jolted at the sight of her being so at ease with the other man's touch, but put it to the back of his thoughts as he gazed at Hawke.

"I can see why you like Hightown now Hawke, I really can," Isabela chuckled, a catlike grin flashing on her face as she took in the view of the man who was now known as Sebastian.

"It has its… advantages," Hawke agreed in an amused tone. Hawke turned to look at him deliberately for a moment before shifting back to the dwarf.

"Hawke, you're two months late!" Varric cajoled and Hawke's grin got even wider.

"You know how it is Varric, the life of us nobles," Hawke mock-sighed and Fenris snorted his amusement.

"It's so good to have you back Hawke," the blood mage added, her voice almost joyful as she ran to embrace Hawke who held her for a split second and then pushed the mage away as if she was a hot coal. Fenris did not blame her, if the blood mage had tried to embrace him he would surely rip out her heart.

Aveline stood and viewed Hawke for a moment, a firm frown painted on her lips as she looked at Hawke's new clothing with a face mixed with emotion. Disapproval ran the strongest on her frown lines, however, but only for a moment as she grinned at the return of one of her closest friends.

"I should have known you couldn't just settle down in your big fancy mansion and be as complacent as all the others that sit up there in Hightown," Aveline chuckled, walking towards Hawke and giving her a swift pat on the back.

Fenris coughed loudly at her statement and Aveline's eyes narrowed for a moment before she grabbed her mug of ale and scoffed "the ones that are meant to be there anyway."

"Enough with the embracing, I've not been gone that long," Hawke said exasperated, as the man named Sebastian stood in front of her momentarily as if he was protecting Hawke from her own friends. Fenris almost growled at the sight of another man trying to claim her –the abomination was one thing, at least Hawke knew he was an idiot. If anything he seemed like royalty but that was not what annoyed him about the man, it was that Hawke allowed him so easily to stand in front of her and help her up. The Hawke he knew wouldn't allow anyone's help apart from her brother's.

"Shit, Broody, Blondie, you've missed your chance!" Varric cajoled, moving the stool next to him and gesturing to Hawke.

The abomination still looked shocked from Hawke's loud entrance; he sat staring at her for moments before he said anything.

"I thought you'd left us, I thought you'd left me," the abomination said in an unrecognizable tone.

"Anders, surely you know I had some things to deal with. I don't exactly belong to you all, you all know that, right?" Hawke answered, confused by the abomination's upset tone.

Hawke looked around the group that had fallen silent at her words, and even Fenris found he could not deny her words. Comradeship was still foreign to him and yet he found he worked well with Hawke and her other party members. It was comforting and that irked him…

"If it helps kitten, I've been far too busy looking for my relic to even miss you," Isabela added, flinging her legs onto Varric's table with a feigned casual manner that Fenris saw through. The pirate was not as good at hiding her feelings as she thought she was.

"Yeah, and dragging me out to a treasure hunt that ended up to be a box of old love letters and a boot," Varric replied into his jar of ale.

"C'mon Hawke spill why you're here and why you've brought this tall glass of handsome along for the ride," the pirate continued, ignoring the dwarf's jibes.

Fenris could not mistake the grin on Hawke's face. She motioned her head at Sebastian, who uncomfortably took the seat next to her and viewed the other members of the party nervously, a sign he was bred by nobility and not used to people like the ones who sat around the table.

"This is Sebastian, a close friend of mine. His family was murdered by a company we dealt with, and he is now the last remaining heir of Starkhaven and resides in the Kirkwall chantry," Hawke said, gesturing towards Sebastian who nodded politely to everyone around them.

"I ought to go pray more often," Isabela thought out loud.

"Are you Andrastian, Isabela?" the chantry brother asked genuinely, viewing the pirate with surprised eyes.

"I thought I recognised you! Many thanks for the help with the bandits around the chantry the other night," Aveline interrupted, bowing her head to recognise the man's royalty. Fenris bit his tongue, wishing the pompous fool wasn't royalty. The man was everything a woman like Hawke should desire it seemed.

"I am a mere chantry brother, Captain," Sebastian replied with a curt smile.

"A chantry brother that has a dragon bone bow and exquisite white arrows, the same arrows that were implanted in the skulls of many of the thugs that resisted arrest," Aveline replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"Sebastian! I knew the pious attitude was a bit too much!" Hawke exclaimed happily, causing the man to beam for a moment in amusement. Fenris' stomach curled in annoyance at the man's smile. But he remained silent, choosing to glare at the walls of the dwarf's suite.

"I digress," Hawke continued empting a pocket of her belt and revealing several pieces of parchment and handing them to the dwarf who started reading them enthusiastically. "I've been helping Sebastian for some time, and whilst I was away-"

"Roaming the forests as a great wolf you mean Hawke!" the blood mage interrupted, her voice brimming with curiosity.

"Another time Merrill, I promise you. I came across some members of the company we had hunted down a few months back, the ones who had murdered Sebastian's family. The very last brigade of the Flint Company. When I apprehended them I found these curious messages and you see since I know a dwarf who loves puzzles, I was going to ask for his aid," Hawke said, her chin pointing towards the dwarf who looked at her for a moment with a wicked grin.

"I would have liked to have seen that. Did you deal with them as a wolf, sweetheart?" the abomination chortled, his mood distracted from Hawke's tale.

"I did."

Fenris' spine tingled at her words as he viewed Hawke for a moment and as if she sensed his gaze her head turned towards him. For a split second she stared at him then turned her attention back to the dwarf.

"Give me half an hour, and I'll have this cracked, partner," Varric said, pushing his spectacles higher up his face as he viewed the piece of paper.

"As you say, partner," Hawke replied and the dwarf's face exploded into a truly happy smile. It had been odd being with the dwarf these last few months. Fenris had never thought Varric would be the type of man who could be depressed, and that was mostly true, but every now and then he saw the dwarf look at the Hanged Man's door with a sad look on his face. Hawke's absence had hurt the dwarf in more ways than he let on it seemed.

"Welcome home, Hawke," the dwarf said almost absentmindedly as he continued to work on the pieces of vellum Hawke had handed him.

….

The mansion they entered was merely a few yards away from his own and yet he had never even heard anything strange coming from the noble's estate. Fenris watched Hawke lead the group into the unkempt hall of the quiet mansion. He could feel the tingles of magic as soon as he stepped into the Harimann Estate, and watched as Varric readied his crossbow in anticipation.

Hawke's stride was met by the newest addition to the party who walked alongside her. The abomination muttered curses under his breath about Sebastian and Fenris found himself agreeing with abomination. He walked along with their party but his mind was further afield.

Was this something Hawke did? Collect men along the way, the more broken the better? Was he merely a fool, like the abomination, for thinking she could have any feelings for him? Hawke was manipulative and she used that in her favour just like the pirate. Who was this man that he could so easily touch her without her complaint? What a fool he was, that he thought she could ever care for him. Why would she?

"Broody, less brooding, more glowing," the dwarf whispered irritably as they climbed the stairs. Hawke entered the room first with anticipation, unsheathing one of the smoke bombs from her belt in preparation for a battle being ahead.

Hawke froze at the sight of a noblewoman screaming at a large barrel of wine. She turned and beckoned them forwards but Fenris noticed her hands move towards her daggers as she did so.

"WHY DOES NO ONE CARE WHAT I WANT IN THIS HOUSE? MORE WINE!" the woman screamed at the large barrel, raising her hands as if she was speaking to someone else rather than the inanimate wooden barrel.

"Any ideas?" Hawke whispered, edging her way around the deranged woman.

"What can you sense, Hawke?" the abomination asked. He had not changed it seemed, he still wanted Hawke to focus on her so called birth right.

"Enchanted, demons I'm guessing," Hawke replied back, much to Fenris' annoyance.

"Then the Harimanns could have killed my family against their own will?" Sebastian asked, viewing the woman with sad eyes, "Her name is Flora, we were friends once."

"Maybe Sebastian, I promise you I will find out. Go to the chantry, it's safer for you there," Hawke replied, beckoning her head towards the exit. Fenris' eyebrows widened at Hawke's command. She had once asked him to leave for his own safety, but not in such a caring tone.

Fenris felt wrong, something was washing over him, it was as if the magic had begun to tingle and dig into his skin. He felt irritable, more so than usual and watched the man with the eyes of a predator. Why did she care for him? She just used people; Hawke just used other people to get what she wanted.

She was no better than the pirate.

He shook off the thoughts, it was as if they were not his own. He snarled his annoyance, something was wrong in this house. He could taste the blood magic that had invaded every part of the house.

"I am not leaving you to fight whatever evil is in this house Hawke, you have risked too much just by being here," Sebastian said, his tone polite but had an air of a command that obviously came from his royal blood. He took his bow out as confirmation that he was staying and put a hand on Hawke's arm for a moment, she smiled warmly at him.

_You were a means to an end. You're no longer useful and now that she is a noble she sets her sights on bigger and better men. Do not take it personally; she plays mind games with all men. See how freely this one can touch her? See how she welcomes his touch but pretends to be the scared damsel? Lies. Your precious Hawke is nothing but smoke and mirrors. She doesn't know your plight or your pain…_

Fenris growled his frustration as the bitter thoughts in his head came thick and fast. Alarmed at his growl the other party members stared at him, fingering their weapons as they looked around the hall that was silent apart from the drunken woman, Flora, who was shouting at the barrel still.

"Fenris, are you alright?" Hawke's voice was full of concern.

_Lies sweetling… Nothing more than lies. She knows it hurt for you to see that._

"I will endure it," he grunted, rubbing the temples of his head as if trying to will the ill thoughts from his mind.

Hawke remained silent but gave him a nod of agreement. He clenched his teeth as she unsheathed both daggers and moved forward.

It seemed he was a slave, no matter how far he ran…

…

The mansion was a swirling pool of power, each corner a new source of madness greater than the other. The Harimann son had cackled to himself as he threw more coins into his molten gold mixture, the frightened elf girl fleeing the scene had reminded Fenris of the slaves in Danarius' household. His mind would flash back to the slave girl whom Hadriana had forced him to eat. Blood magic was strong in these halls, and the more they moved the more suspicious he was of the origin. The demon had not consumed any of the Harimann family; in fact it had just taken their minds. The patron of the household hid in his bedroom creating wild fantasies with a brothel whore.

But it was not just the Harimanns who seemed to be affected by the magic in the household. He could feel whatever entity resided in the mansion creep into his thoughts, whispering in his mind. He watched Hawke walk alongside her new toy and his blood boiled. He wanted to get angry, to tell her what a whore she was but he resisted. He chanted in his mind that he was strong but the further they travelled into the mansion, the worse the voice held onto him.

_What will you do when you are withered and old, still chained by your former master and she is a queen? She could be his princess and have his children and sit on her throne and when that happens she will forget you. You were a fun toy, a good toy… until he came along. _

He seethed under his breath as they made their way to the wine cellar; Hawke seemed to be the only one not affected by the magic that roamed freely. Her stride was persistent whilst he grunted and spat as he tried to resist. Fenris noticed the dwarf had gone silent too, every now and then closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Sebastian, for all his pious pretences looked strained as he followed Hawke, chanting his prayers as they moved further in. The abomination however seemed unfazed by what was happening and Fenris realised bitterly that the fool was already possessed.

"If anyone feels like whatever's down there is getting to them, leave before it's too late," Hawke warned as she stepped delicately down the staircase.

_Pretends to be strong but is delicate, I watched her squirm you know. Oh, we all watched and backed away in fear, but she's not as powerful as she makes out. She plays such games with you men, you thought you were the only one with the power to rip out hearts. And she has the potential to be a monster. She needs to end, she will become another magister in her own right… it is your duty. _

He almost howled but the words were starting to make sense. The abomination and Hawke were mages that used their freedoms for their own desires. They were selfish, they did what they pleased and never thought of anyone else.

Hawke moved swiftly towards the door in the basement, but stopped at a corpse and moved quickly to pick up something obscure that Fenris could not see in the darkness. She carried on but stopped again, as if waiting for something to come. He grabbed his sword from his back ready for the fight; he knew Hawke's tells better than his own.

The girl, her brother and her father they had seen earlier appeared from the door that they had been heading towards, sickly smiles smeared on their faces.

"Turn back, there is nothing here for you," Flora announced, looking at Hawke with blind eyes.

"I'll decide that, thanks. Why don't you go and sleep that hangover off? You look dreadful," Hawke quipped, but the bodies of the Harimann family had already collapsed to the floor. Fenris gripped his sword ready for the fight he knew was about to happen.

"Finally, I was sick of just thinking there was creepy shit everywhere," Varric shouted, readying Bianca as the shades and demons appeared from the floors below.

"I second that my sweet dwarf," Hawke laughed in delight, her blood thirst obvious as she launched a grenade at one of the shades before diving in to the fray with her daggers.

He let the lyrium burst out of his skin as he swiped his great sword into the demon's path. A part of him expected Hawke to be ducking and rolling next to him like she had done many times before, but Hawke held her own stance in the fight. _She was a good fighter._ He watched her from the corner of his eye whilst she attended to the desire demon that tried to corner her. He slammed his sword into one of the shades and was about to come to her aid when a white arrow whirred past him and hit the desire demon in the back of the head, making it fall to the floor clumsily.

He turned and growled at the rogue archer who simply turned and dealt with the stragglers that were still trying to fight. Hawke flipped herself over with ease and joined in Sebastian's fight, not even noticing their exchange. It seemed she had become more lethal in her fighting skills, using powerful kicks and underhand punches and other brutal tactics.

When the last demon fell, Hawke did not comment on anyone's well-being. She looked at the abomination who merely nodded his approval of everyone being well and carried on down the steps.

_If you got rid of the prince, she could be yours my sweet sweet elf. _

….

They fought their way through the catacombs that ran under the Harimann Estate and found themselves in a large dusty chamber, older than any of the mansions in Hightown. The matriarch of the Harimann household knelt at the foot of a desire demon, begging it for more power to secure Starkhaven as her own. The demon stared down at the old woman joyfully as if the woman's pleas gave it deep pleasure.

"Hello sweetlings," it said, floating towards them with a hungry look in its eyes.

"Great, desire. I thought so. What bargain have you made?" Hawke turned her attention to the elder woman who had stood up.

"Who is this? What are- Sebastian?" the elder woman asked, her eyes wide with shock at the chantry brother being alive.

"You were my mother's friend! How could you murder her?" Sebastian snapped, rage painting his features.

"Such an ugly word murder, I prefer removed the only obstacle between her and her dreams," the demon purred, eyeing them all with hungry eyes.

"This was your idea!" Sebastian shouted at the demon's seductive grin.

"I could create such desires if I wished. I can see your desires too, I can make them happen. I know you look at her, chantry brother. I know you feel she would make such a strong princess … You wish you had been there for your family. But now you could be prince, Prince of Starkhaven. All you would have to do is take out your rival, take the lyrium elf away," the demon purred and its words held Sebastian in place. Fenris growled threateningly at the demon, but it still glided towards him.

"And you, my delicious sweet elf. I can feel your desire; you want her as your own. The chantry brother does not want her as badly as you and you would win the battle easily. Rid us of this so called prince and the prize will be yours, I will make it so," the demon's voice slid into his mind, and before he could stop himself the lyrium on his body set a fire.

"I'll rescue you before any of this happens, Hawke," the abomination scoffed, engaging the demon's attention.

"Ah Justice, protecting this one I see. What would happen if I gave Hawke her desires?" the demon asked, sliding to Hawke.

"Hiding them away I see. I saw you years ago. I watched with my brothers and sisters in the Fade when it happened. I could make you stronger than you are, you could have him," the demon purred, floating towards Hawke. Fenris' stomach jolted at the demon's words. He stared at Sebastian, and found the temptation was overwhelming. She was right, the demon was right.

"Not hiding them away at all, you just can't get to them very well," Hawke replied, a grin on her face.

"And why is that sweetling, care to confess to your friends?" the demon purred, touching Hawke's face with one of its long purple fingers.

"Because I desire nothing more than to see you dead," Hawke answered, and in one swift movement stabbed the demon in the abdomen with one of her daggers. The demon howled and the fight began, the fog that covered Fenris' mind seemed to disappear as soon as the demon screamed in its fury.

The fight seemed never-ending; the crowds of demons swarmed them. Bianca sang loudly as the crossbow rained bolts down on the shades, fireballs fell to the ground by the abomination's command and Hawke stood in the centre whirling her daggers in the fray; the rogue archer stood beside chanting the Maker's prayers loudly as he fired arrow after arrow. Fenris joined in to the battle buzzing with blue light. He threw his sword where he was needed and when the fight was over they found themselves standing amongst a sea of ashes and corpses.

Fenris inhaled and exhaled deeply for a few moments. He had not been in a fight like that since the Deep Roads.

"I- I must leave. I must return to the chantry and pray for Lady Harimann's soul," Sebastian whispered, his eyes locked on Hawke.

"Sebastian, I-"

"No Hawke, I must be alone," Sebastian concluded, stepping over Lady Harimann's body before exiting the scene hastily. Fenris agreed with the chantry brother silently, the events of the mansion had drained him more than he initially thought.

Hawke stood there for a moment in silence, looking around at the ash and death that surrounded her.

"I think that went well sweetheart, nobody succumbed to demons, the demons are dead, everyone's happy," the abomination said, a satisfied smile on his face.

Hawke ignored his comment and swirled around to look straight at Fenris. She charged up to him with determination and stood centimetres away from him. He could feel her anger radiating off of her body in waves.

"What in the Maker's undergarments was that about?" she asked, almost hissing.

"Do not question me Hawke, I am in no mood for your games," Fenris replied, annoyed by her temper –something he had not missed about Hawke.

"Games? Oh yes, I play games," Hawke started, her voice loud enough for both the abomination and the dwarf to hear.

"Venehedis! Go and run after your prince, Hawke!" Fenris spat, and before he could watch her run off he stomped off in the opposite direction, praying there was another way out of the mansion. Before he exited however, he heard Hawke howl loudly and for a moment thought she had once again become a wolf.

"Sweetheart, it's already dead but if it makes you feel better keep on kicking it," the abomination's voice simmered from the chamber.

He growled and stormed away from earshot. He was right, Hawke did not want him. And he would learn not to care for her or her games. Tonight he would drink and reside in his own bitter world, where self-hatred was his only bedfellow.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42- There's a fine line between love and hate. **

**A big shout out to my beta LostSpace for this chapter! I'm so lucky to have such an amazing beta. **

**And as always, you guys that review/read/follow/favourite my story. I genuinely love reading your feedback and if you guys have anything you'd like to see -literally anything, if I'm in a creative mood I honestly don't mind- please let me know!**

**Love,**

**Lunaaa. **

**X**

Fenris slung his great sword down forcefully causing a tsunami of dust to erupt from the dirty floorboards of his bedroom. He did not bother removing his armour instead he quickly grabbed one of the bottles of alcohol the dwarf had given him. The sight of Hawke so openly touching another man and the grime of the demon's voice still lingered on his skin. Yet the demon had made him look at Hawke closer than he ever had before and he realised she was not the enigma he had thought she was.

He thumbed the bottle of wine for a moment then tore it open angrily, gulping down the alcohol as if he was a man dying of thirst. He thought that he would only ever need alcohol to wipe away the smears that Danarius had left on him; he had thought after his escape he would never be a victim to blood magic again. And yet the demon's presence lingered in his bones. There were some things alcohol could never wash away.

He had always thought of himself as strong when it came to the manipulation of magic. He had thought he had seen everything that magic had to offer and yet the demon had caught him in its web easily. The damning confirmation that he was just as weak as the other members of their party –barring Hawke- hit him hard. He had not ever considered that a demon could push him so easily over the edge and even now its whispers tormented his mind. He tried to control his rage at his own weakness. It angered him that Hawke and the abomination resisted the demon's offers so easily whereas he and the chantry brother had fallen quickly to it's grimey words.

He could not afford to let himself become weak, weakness would mean his freedom would become a distant memory and he would be tied down by Danarius once again. And yet the demon's words rang through his body, flashing images of Hawke and her prince in his mind.

He finished his first bottle and quickly grabbed the second; he hoped it would numb the ache in his chest. His temper wavered the more he thought about Hawke and Sebastian. She had made her choice when she ran after the chantry brother. She had made her intentions clear and the demon had confirmed it when she announced Sebastian's wants. He needed a princess and Hawke was a noble.

What a perfect match.

He wanted to stop thinking of Hawke in such a bitter way but he found the more he thought of her the more his anger rose. Hawke was like Isabela, except Hawke's brain overpowered her loins. The effects of the second bottle quickly kicked in and Fenris slumped himself in the chair, bitterness overwhelming him as it often did. The demon seemed to be taunting him even in its posthumous state, still driving it's thoughts into his mind.

He grabbed another, hoping the images of Sebastian and Hawke would leave his mind. She had everything she wanted now. They had helped her gain her noble status and she had found herself a prince whilst they waited in the slums. She did not have to admit it; her openness to his touch was all the explanation Fenris needed.

The loud bang of the front door opening forewarned him of another's arrival but he was far too sluggish to move. If it was Danarius he would be able to take him there and then, the alcohol had taken away his desire to fight back. He stood up and walked towards his sword, but the intruder had already made their way to his bedroom door.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Hawke asked as she walked towards him, her voice furious and commanding.

He retreated back to his chair, the buzz of the alcohol still humming in his brain. Her voice seemed louder than he had ever heard it and echoed in his mind.

"Don't fucking make me repeat myself, Fenris. What was all that about?" Hawke demanded, walking towards him in the darkness.

He could hear her grinding her teeth in frustration and with what sounded like a whip cracking, the fireplace suddenly became ablaze and Hawke walked towards him. She pulled down her hood and he looked at her for a moment in fear, he waited to be punished for his ignorance.

"Fenris?" she asked, her intense green eyes glowing in the anger of the roaring fire.

"Hawke," he replied, thumbing the half empty bottle of wine.

"I demand an explanation Fenris," Hawke spat, the magic crackling in her body. He could feel the lyrium in her veins, vibrating in every part of her.

"You are not my master," he spat, taking a gulp of the wine.

"I never said I was, but I am your friend," Hawke replied, her voice controlled as if she was minding her temper.

"Is that what you seek? Friendship? Not a means to an end? You have your Hightown mansion, you have your prince, you do not have to pretend any longer, Hawke," he replied, stroking the body of the bottle and avoiding her gaze.

"Why do you keep saying my prince? What are you talking about?" Hawke asked, confused.

_Lies, lies… All she does is lie to get what she wants…_

"You are like Isabela! You use your assets to will them in, but you never give too much! You are a siren! You enjoy playing games! How is that you would not even accept another touching you apart from your brother and now all of a sudden when royalty wishes to touch you, you are free and able?! I tire of your games, mage! Now leave!" he roared, standing up and launching the bottle of wine at the wall, soaking the stone in blood red liquid. The small amount of self-control that he had left was slowly falling out of his hands like sand.

Hawke stood still with wide eyes for a moment. She seemed speechless by his outburst and his confrontation and for a moment looked at him in shock.

"I am not playing games with you or anyone. It is easier to let Sebastian touch me because he has taken a vow of chastity, he is a chantry brother…" she started, but his temper flared at her words.

"More games! Of course it is different! Your excuses are pathetic!" he snapped, turning to face the fire.

Hawke was just another weakness that could be easily exploited.

"How fucking dare you! You know nothing of my life or the things that have happened to me!" Hawke shouted. He could feel the magic thrumming in her hands, ready to unleash at any moment.

"I suppose it has been hard for you, mage! Whilst I was a slave being tortured you sat in the farmlands with your daisy chains and your loving family! You always play the victim but I have realised tonight it is just another game! That is what we are, are we not? Games!" he replied angrily, facing her in his defiance.

Hawke's eyes set alight at his words as if they emitted their own form of light.

"Narrow minded bastard! You won't even let me explain! You don't even know!" she screamed.

"And after tonight I have decided I do not want to!" he roared back, his rage colouring any other feeling as he looked at Hawke's staggered face. He ignored the hurt in her eyes; she would soon run to her prince or the abomination or whatever man she could play with. He was a fool, a fool to think a slave like him could ever receive anything but manipulation from a mage like her.

"I thought you felt the same," she said, her voice almost inaudible, his sensitive ears only just picking up her quiet words.

"Obviously I do not. Leave before I make you myself," he spat, his rage taking hold of his entire being. He could not stop himself; he did not want to.

"I am not leaving until I can explain! I sent you a letter, I wrote it down for you!" Hawke replied.

"Of course you did, now leave Hawke," he begged, his temper bubbling and making him feel more like a beast than a man. He could feel the demon's grime still lingered on his skin, he needed to bathe and scour every inch of his skin, he needed to get away- to run.

"No."

Fenris' self-control shattered. He roared his defiance and his brands lit as he howled in temper. He charged towards her, his hands balling into fists as his rage took control of his entire being. But Hawke was ready for his attack and as soon as he got close she slipped into the darkness, causing him to fumble as he grasped thin air. He sensed her as she tried to sneak towards him, hoping to tackle him from behind, and turned just in time. He threw her to the wall with a deafening crack. Without thinking he ran towards her, ready to throw her out of his home and his life, but she knew him too well and before he could even consider grabbing for his great sword he felt a wave of magic hurtling towards him and was sent flying back to the wall parallel to Hawke. His vision blurred for a moment but the pain fuelled his anger. Hawke leant against the wall for a moment, obviously dazed from her use of magic and he took his chance. He charged towards her with an incensed howl and threw her to the floor.

He collapsed on top of her and they stared at each other for a moment, green eyes meeting green. The lyrium that was once burning in rage seemed to dim and he examined her enraged facial features for a moment. His eyes flickered to the fresh wound on her head, -similar to his own- and then to her eyes before they rested on her lips that were mashed together in anger.

Not even considering the consequences of his actions, he smashed his lips down on hers. Hawke responded to his touch automatically and their lips fought one another's, rebelling against their own anger. The heat of her kisses scorched his throat and the burn spread to every part of his body, coursing in his loins and he felt his groin tighten in anticipation. The need for Hawke was almost painful as he forced hot kisses on her and she answered them all back in kind. He groaned at the taste of her lips, she tasted of blood and wine; better yet she tasted of freedom. Hawke forced her lips on his harder, moaning slightly as she did so. He growled in satisfaction, trying to hold onto what little control he had.

He stopped before he could do something he regretted.

He gazed at her dizzily for a moment, viewing her expression with bated breath. Her expression mirrored his own, her breathing still heavy as she looked up at him. After a few moments he regained his composure and stood up, frozen to the spot as the reality of what just happened hit him fast.

Hawke stood up and adjusted her cloak, viewing him with silence and her eyes still burning with desire.

She looked at him and the door and his stomach dropped at the thought of her leaving now.

"You can't read can you?" she asked quietly, her lips swollen and red as she spoke. He looked at them hungrily as he tried to process Hawke's words.

He looked at her in confusion, dumbfounded by the casual question after what had just happened. He tried to quell the shock and alcohol that sloshed in his stomach but his attempt to reign in his emotions seemed impossible, it was as if he was scrambling at her words. The tightness in his trousers seemed to burn longingly as he looked at the distance between himself and Hawke, he wanted to take her back, to claim her. To tell her how he felt.

_He had to tell her._

But his mind was far too foggy, an hour ago he was charging into this room with feelings of hatred towards Hawke, now he was staring at her with lust and other wanton desires. How did the woman do these things?

"Fenris, stop staring at me in that way and answer the fucking question," Hawke added, glaring at him but with a small smile on her lips.

"I-uh," was all he could add to the conversation. He felt almost joyful –most likely enhanced by the alcohol- that he had kissed Hawke. All these weeks, all the things he had witnessed and he had told himself she did not want him, she did this to all men who circled round her. She was a bird of prey. But he felt it, felt when their lips met that she wanted it too, he could not deny it.

"I have to go, I have some business I need to attend to and my mother is back tomorrow evening," she explained.

"I see," he attempted to say more, but his mind and heart were running a thousand miles ahead of him. It was as if his intellect had been depleted in kisses.

"I'll come back tomorrow evening," she added and he nodded his reply, words failing him at the prospect of Hawke returning.

"And we can talk about what just happened," she said slowly, looking at him as if he had come down with an illness. He nodded again, she was right but he could not explain whatever it was that rushed through his head at that moment. He wanted to ask her if that had just really happened, but he knew the annoyance of being questioned. Whatever it was, he enjoyed it and overcomplicating it would just ruin whatever was beginning.

_He wanted to be happy, just for once. _

She started walking towards the bedroom door but paused to pull her hood over her face.

"And I'm teaching you to read."


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43 – The pieces move into place.

**As always, a huge thank you to my beta LostSpace for being so amazing!**

**And a big thanks you to all of you! I love hearing feedback and your support means so much to me! **

Quentin stood in the cave, unperturbed by the scuttling of the creatures that hid in its depths. When he had received the letter he almost, for a moment, thought that Derek had returned from the dead, but he should have known better than to think that. As he waited he listened to the screeches of whatever prey was being mutilated by the other animals that resided in the cave with an upturned lip. He enjoyed witnessing nature at its best, the cruel conclusion of another thing's life dealt swiftly by its executioner. He found it to be so primal and yet refreshing.

Power ruled in every form of life. And yet he had found a way to defy nature itself, his love would be with him again. Just the parts, the parts were not right. This new girl, Jean, he thought he had found the right chest, the right curvaceous torso that matched his love's perfectly. But no, too skinny… Far too skinny.

It was not his fault he had to commit these acts, twas the Maker and his wicked deed. He took away his love and his new born babe before he even got to see them again. They were gone. Gone. Gone!

It had happened so quickly; one moment he had a purpose, friends, and a wife and child. The labour was harrowing, it killed her. Derek had been sending spies for months now and knew what Quentin had been experimenting on. He was not allowed to see his dead wife or child because they feared what a slash of his wrist could do. Self-righteous even in the end, but Quentin enjoyed the irony that it would have been his own work that could have saved Derek from his own undoing. Olivia they had called the still born child, and when he had built a new vessel for his love he would build a new babe too. His love would know what she looked like, he would get more parts. Build up his own baby girl with tender loving hands as he stitched his beautiful daughter.

He should have taken them and fled like Malcolm had. He should have fled and they could have lived. But no, no, he was too passionate, too selfish but in the end it did not do Malcolm any good. Twas a pity, Malcolm Hawke was one of the smartest men he had ever met and did what Quentin could not. Malcolm had fallen in love and left; Quentin had stayed and dragged her with him even though she hated it.

He should have- no, no, now was not the time for regrets. He would atone to her every day as soon as she was complete. He would make sure they lived forever and not even the Maker could stub their lives out. The spirits guided him, they always had but they had been louder in recent years. Derek had helped him shut them off but he was wrong. Quentin had found immense power with the spirit's guidance. Yet he owed Derek more than his own life and his debt would have to be repaid whether he liked it or not.

Footsteps approached him and knocked him out of his wandering thoughts. Quentin thumbed the dagger in his robe pocket as the man who made them came into his vision. The same smile slid across the new arrival's face - nothing had changed apart from the grisly scar across his face. Eric viewed Quentin with amusement, but Quentin kept a level head. He would need to find out how the idiotic templar had found him and deal with whatever exposure that had been risked.

"Throw the dagger to the ground Quentin. Let's play nicely for old time's sake," Eric said in his usual patronising tone. Quentin had not missed Eric that was sure – though he had admired Derek's apprentice, Eric had a nasty streak that would put Gaspard to shame.

Quentin paused for a moment debating, after a moment he conceded to Eric's command and threw the old dagger to the floor.

"Derek would be proud. I am not one who normally concedes so easily but I found your letter curious to say the least. In what way can you help me? Indulge me, then I can leave this hole and get back to my real work and-"Quentin began but Eric interrupted him swiftly.

"Not even a hello after all these years! Manners, Quentin, they cost you nothing. Well, actually they do in this case. See this dagger? It's almost the same as yours except this one is laced with magebane," Eric said with a forced smile as he showed him a very similar blade. Quentin's breathing hilted for a moment but he continued to stare at the ex-templar blankly- he knew how to provoke fear just as well Eric.

"I should have known it was your idea for Malcolm to die like that. Are you still jealous of him after all this time?" Quentin asked, a sickly grin smearing across his face at the memory of Eric's hatred for Malcolm Hawke. He found it ironic that this had all begun and ended with Malcolm Hawke. If he didn't know better he would have thought Malcolm himself saved his own child that night. Of course he had heard the rumours, but never got to know any hard facts. As soon as he had heard of Malcolm's murder he cut off contact from everyone and prayed they'd think he was dead. He had avoided them at all costs and for years he had been left alone until now. He knew this day would come, when the legacy of Derek would be calling for favours that people owed a dead man. He would listen to the proposal and if it was not to his liking take care of the situation swiftly. Quentin was getting old, he required…

Parts.

"I cannot claim that as my own, it was another. But we're not getting to the point. I'm quite busy and your presence disgusts me. I need something done and you will do it Quentin," Eric replied.

"And why should I?! I gave Derek all the notes I had, I gave him everything I could send through Orsino," Quentin replied, angered by the demands of a long forgotten man.

"I can help you rebuild what you lost. I want no part in your sick bastard ways but I can point you in the right direction and your debt will be repaid. I think that is more than sufficient," Eric said, his tone polite, something which made Quentin feel immediately on edge.

"What is the request?" Quentin asked.

"The apostate child, I assume you know who she is?" Eric replied.

"Yes, but I don't see what Malcolm's daughter has to do with this. You were warned, the theory had holes in it. I have no quarrel or need with the girl," Quentin answered, confused for a moment.

"Aria Hawke has everything to do with it. And you are going to end her or bring her to me. Do this and your debt will be repaid," Eric spat, turning away as he began to exit the cave without even waiting for Quentin's confirmation.

Quentin's hands began to fidget in anger at the way the fool commanded him. He was almost a god, a puppeteer that created life…

Before he could stop himself his hands circled and a blood red orb swirled around his fingertips. If Eric was dealt with then there would be no one else… No one else would even know he was alive, he could continue undisturbed.

The orb shot out of his hand and fired towards Eric, but before it could land Eric raised his hand up and the orb deflected towards the rocky walls of the cave, obliterating one of the closer boulders into dust.

Eric stopped in his tracks but did not turn to face Quentin.

"Did I mention that Aria Hawke's mother has a face that looks extremely familiar?"

Quentin's stomach bubbled in excitement as his lips mashed into a cruel grin of pure pleasure.

**A.N- So I named this story Lyrium lines because I went with the concept that everyone is connected in a certain way, for every action of our own we cause a reaction to another person's life (if that makes sense, if it doesn't I'm sorry I know I must sound mad) and put this into the story of Dragon age two. As you have noticed Quentin knows Malcolm Hawke etc. More will be revealed later on! I just want to add I do not own the characters made by Bioware, but would like to thank them as the lack of context about Malcolm Hawke's death has made me think of my own story for the character! Also, a little bit of a side note, I added a bit of my own creativity to Quentin thought I'd add that he and his wife had a daughter but his wife died and so did the babe… well, that's what Derek said right? Take a look back on earlier chapters… **


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

Hawke did not return to Fenris' mansion that evening as she had promised.

In fact she did not even return within a week.

Instead she followed her mother around and hid behind her noble status, going to lunches and feasts, pretending that what happened that night would soon disappear along with every other mistake she had made. Sometimes when they walked past the abandoned mansion she would give a fleeting glance, but left it as it was and caught up with her mother.

She could not do it, not again. Tamlen was different, she had been better and full of youth- of naïve hopes and wishes that all teenage girls had. No, things were different and she was selfish. Oh Maker, she knew she was selfish. She had lied to Fenris, she knew as soon as she exited the mansion that night she would not return the next evening. Selfish. She was always selfish. Carver had made sure that the bitter part of her stayed in, without him here she felt like she was on a path of pure self-destruction- luring others onto to the ship whilst knowing it would sink.

A small part of her commanded her to go to his mansion, to apologise and venture into the unknown with him, but that was wrong. It was all wrong, ever since Carver left. Carver was something to hold onto, someone to fight for. Now she was just a lonely little girl again and she was slowly losing herself and there was no one to stop it. She had changed, without a shield she had become weak, seeking comfort in other men's allures and playing with it to her advantage. She played on it to get what she wanted. Fenris was right, she and Isabela had a lot more in common than Hawke would like to admit.

And where would it go? Where would it go if she had decided to go back to him? What could she do, tell him that she was just as messed up as he was? Would they have a close conversation and then skip off into the sunset? No, not whilst her mother was alive. Leandra Amell would rather die than see her last child make the same mistakes as she did.

She blamed the alcohol she had drank that night, that's why she was so open to his touch. She ignored the small part of her that fluttered at the memory, the part that told her that she had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her. The last time she had been touched it was grimey, dirty and wrong, but this time she accepted it, consented to his kisses and that in its own way made her feel wrong.

_A wrong that felt right, how poetic of her. _

They were both as fucked up as each other, and as her father always said "two wrongs never make a right," yet it tore at her. Her heart whispered that Fenris was right for her, but her mind bellowed that they were both two bitter, angry people that could not form a relationship. She had not meant to react to him like she did and she would bet her weight in gold that he felt the same. How could they function after this? Was he still even in the mansion? Her stomach dropped at Fenris leaving, but it was no less than she deserved.

She could not even tell Carver what had truly happened to her, how could she tell Fenris? No, it was best she left it where it was at. They both could never be free, and she would not cage him with her own demons. She was not as valuable to Eric as Fenris was to Danarius, but she knew that there would be a time in the future where the wolf would not remain hidden. And how could she do that to him? If Danarius were to fall, how could she chain him once again? She wouldn't, she couldn't.

"Aria, if you stare at that scone any harder I'm going to begin to think you're going mad, child," Mother's voice simmered through her thoughts.

"Am I not already mad? My apologies mother, I was lost in my thoughts," Hawke replied, lifting the scone to her mouth.

"You're so much like your father and you don't realise it, is something troubling you my dear?" Mother asked, worry blotched on her aging features.

Hawke remained silent for a moment, knowing her mother's concern was only because the de Launcet's ball was in a week and her mother intended for her to find a suitor at said ball.

"No, just lost in my thoughts. Nothing really to worry about," Hawke said, taking another bite out of her scone and remembering to chew it delicately like Mother had taught her.

"Is it Sebastian? You two have come quite close recently," Mother said casually, though Hawke saw through her mother like glass.

"No Mother, it is not Sebastian and I've told you, we are just friends with a shared hobby of reading," Hawke said.

"Yes, and about that. Do try to mask your intellect and wit whilst at dinner parties. The Comte de Launcet is still annoyed that you corrected him," Mother berated, her eyebrow arched in amusement however.

"Well, you may tell him that I am still annoyed that he thinks people from Ferelden are uncivilised and that Qunari eat their own kin," Hawke snorted, recalling the ridiculous rant that the Comte had one evening during a dinner party.

"And how do you know they do not?" Mother asked, her eyebrow rising again.

"Because, I've met the Arishok and he was scary, but not cannibalistic," Hawke answered, her mother looking at her with a tired expression.

"Yes, well keep that information to yourself, child. This is why you and Seamus Dumar would be a good match," Mother said exasperated as she started to butter another scone.

"I'm pretty sure I don't have the parts he requires, Mother," Hawke muttered quietly, but not silent enough that it did not reach her mother's ear. She threw her a scolding look but was distracted by the knock at the door.

Bodhan quickly entered after knocking, throwing Mother a low bow as soon as he entered. Bodhan had become quite taken to Hawke's mother and vice versa. Mother often praised him for his cleaning and cooking skills, and didn't mind Sandal's strange behaviour.

"Yes, Bodhan," Mother asked, smiling warmly at the dwarf. Hawke rolled her eyes at her mother's warm smile. Those kinds of smiles were for people who were not disappointments to her it seemed.

"Guard Captain Aveline is here Mistress, shall I let her in or shall I ask her to wait until you are more formally dressed?" Bodhan asked a small blush on his cheeks most likely caused by Mother's smile.

"No that won't be necessary, please let the guard captain in," Mother commanded, and the door swung open to reveal Aveline, standing in her usual bulky armour.

"Good day Leandra, Haw-Aria," Aveline said, correcting herself quickly at the narrowed eyes of Mother.

"Good day Aveline, how may we be of assistance for you today?" Leandra said, once again showing her warm smile. Mother adored Aveline as if she was one of her own children.

"I was wondering if Aria was free today. I am in need of a gown for the coming ball and know that Aria is attending too and wanted to know if she wished to join me in a day of shopping," Aveline replied, her cheeks flushed red. Hawke could see through Aveline's lies easily, she was so terrible at it, but it seemed her mother did not.

"She is today, I'm afraid she cannot hide behind my skirt until the afternoon at least," Mother conceded. It surprised Hawke that her mother had agreed to let her out of her sight so easily, and wondered what Mother could possibly be doing that did not involve Hawke following her around so that she would not get in trouble.

"I'm curious now. For nearly two months I have not been able to do a single thing without being watched or almost locked in my own home, why all of a sudden do you want rid of me?" Hawke asked.

"I was going to tell you actually, until Aveline arrived. I am going to lunch with a suitor, his name is Laurence and he is a widower like me. This is our first meeting and it would be twice as awkward if you were to join us," Mother said, a small smile on her face. Hawke arched her eyebrow at Mother's almost dreamy smile but decided not to irritate her and ultimately sacrificing her day of freedom.

"You don't think I'm being stupid do you, Aria? I'm old and old people get lonely. It's been so long since your father and I miss him more as each day passes," Mother asked, staring at Hawke with pleading eyes. Hawke knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell her that if she needed to get laid then go for it, but she could never replace father with a stupid noble. _Oh, she was a hypocrite._

Instead she answered "Of course not Mother, you are allowed to be happy."

"Yes, well. That went far better than I planned. I am quite proud of how much of a refined young woman you've become Aria. I know some day you'll make me proud. I shall go get Bodhan to bring more tea, please excuse me for a moment," Mother said, exiting through the door and calling for Bodhan down the halls.

Hawke stuck her middle finger up at the door her mother had just exited and bitterly turned away. Aveline looked at her sternly for a moment but decided to let it drop, meaning that whatever she had come round for was serious.

"Spill it, Red," Hawke cajoled, making Aveline's eyes narrow at her nickname.

"Drop the smarminess, Hawke; I'm in no mood for jokes today. The Viscount has made me become the Relations Ambassador between the Qunari and himself, most likely because he's a coward and the Arishok is ten feet tall. There have been some issues, as there always are. I went to speak with the Arishok and was told that he wanted an audience with the Hawk and no one else. Since the Hawk is you, and you're pretending to be a noble I had to use underhanded tactics to get you out. Maker, how do you lie to your mother? I was sweating the entire time," Aveline said, wiping the sweat from behind her neck.

"Irony thy name is Aveline. Weren't you just complaining to me that I should just be complacent?" Hawke chortled, picking up her cup of tea and throwing a sly wink at Aveline.

"Is that a yes, Hawke?" Aveline demanded, watching for Mother at the door.

"Yes."

Mother re-entered the room followed by Bodhan with a fresh pot of tea. At the sight of Mother Aveline started to blush furiously again and stood up.

"I have to go Leandra; I simply must join you for tea as soon as I can. Aria, I will meet you at the Viscount's Keep in an hour if that's suitable? I have some last minute rotas to sign, and then we can shop till we drop!" Aveline said overenthusiastically, causing Hawke to slap herself in the face whilst her mother looked at Aveline as if she had gone completely mad.

Aveline shook her head and took her leave, leaving an awkward silence between Hawke and her mother.

"I'll, just go get ready," Hawke said finally, walking towards the stairs almost excitedly.

She did not notice the fresh bouquet of white lilies that was now the centrepiece for the dresser next to the banister.

**A.N- I am so sorry guys, I am trying to push them into the relationship slowly as I feel it's more in character, my initial idea was smut smut smut but I decided that this wasn't where Hawke and Fenris would go. Hawke and Fenris both need to get rid of the skeletons in their closets and I think Hawke (my version of her) is a bit too much of a coward when it comes to being open about emotions. I also believe Fenris is very closed too (I can imagine him in his chair by the fire with his bottle of wine cursing her for not keeping her promise yet wanting to see her) **

**Also I will be taking a short break which is why I've posted two chapters this week! I will be back to usual asap but I have lot of things that I need to sort, sorry guys! **

**Big thanks to my reviewers; negative/positive feedback is what makes a story great! What also makes a story great is the readers/followers/favourites too! **

**Not forgetting my amazing beta LostSpace! If it wasn't for her help I wouldn't be writing this… Love to you all- Lunaa! x**


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45- Malcolm's Honour**

**I have returned and I will be giving up more time to focus on my fan fiction story!**

**So, this is my first part of Malcolm Hawke's diary! This is basically just a tester chapter and I would appreciate feedback – if you don't like this idea I can cut it out until it's needed to the story but I thought I'd start leaking a few explanations and I love the idea of giving Malcolm a bit of context! But the next Malcolm chapter will have a lot more information (Quentin etc.)**

**Thank you for all of your reviews/favourites/follows! Everything in general, you guys have been great and I can't believe this fan fic is almost eleven months old! Wow! **

**Big shout out to my beta LostSpace for all her work with this!**

_9:00 Dragon 5__th__ Wintermarch_

_This is not how I expected freedom to taste. It is anticlimactic, to say the least. I seemed to have created a hyperbole of a world in my mind. It hasn't changed since the last time I was free. And that was when I was a boy, long before my magic manifested. I find myself lost, wondering where to go and what to do now and in an odd way I sort of revel in it. No timetable, no curfew… Only the constant worry that Alex has actually tattled on me and the templars are an hour's journey behind me. If it is the latter then I will have the damned fool's head before they smack a sun on mine. Hopefully they won't do that, I'm sure I can charm my way into a transfer. The First Enchanter seemed impressed by my research and theoretical studies. But I had to leave that tower, too many rules and regulations. It is wondrous that out in the open here I do not have to put in a request form to merely practice a healing glyph! Though freedom is wondrous I am starting to sorely miss the cooked food and warm bed that was always waiting for me. I suppose being locked in the circle has made me far too comfortable. _

_I've made good time today; I'm about half a day away from the small village of Lothering. I asked a traveller for directions – trying my damned hardest to hide my circle robes- and he said the best place for trade so close was Lothering. I'm going to trade whatever I hunt in exchange for clothes and some weapons. The people out of the Circle truly despise magic as if it were born from the blight itself and I must make sure they do not see me for what I am. This will require some training with a sword also. I really have not thought this quest for freedom through at all. _

_I have heard that there are mages seeking refuge close to Redcliffe, though it does make me wonder if it is true with it being so close to the Arling and the templars being ever vigilant as they are. I guess there is only one way to find out. Here goes freedom, for as long as it lasts. _

_9:00 Dragon 7__th__ Wintermarch_

_I sold my ram leather and fennec fur to a local trader in exchange for a dagger that is more like an extravagant pen knife and some black clothing with a leather chest guard. It's better than I thought it would be; now I am not running around with the word apostate stamped on my head. I still need supplies, however, and I do not want to linger in the open for too long. No doubt the fool templars have sent out a battalion of dolts to try and find me and bring me back. Or worse… But I try to stray away from the negativities of these things because I heard some good news today that apparently the Korcari Wilds is full of elfroot and other herbs. The downside is that there is apparently a Witch of the Wilds and the Chasind folk who like to obliterate intruders on their land. I've escaped one of the biggest prisons in Ferelden; I think the risk is more than worth it. _

_9:00 Dragon 8__th__ Wintermarch_

_The villagers were right about the herbs, there are plenty here, more than enough for my journey. I am quickly setting camp before returning and then moving towards Orzammar in the hope of continuing my work. I should have known that the First Enchanter would have no use of it –though he was impressed to begin with- as soon as I explained that this could unlock our own freedoms he tried to silence me with warnings of treason. How is it treason to aid both templars and mages? I hope that if I ever have the right to spawn a child that they will live in a world where they do not have to hide. Mages have for far too long been labelled as the filth that defiles the Maker. My work has the potential to create a network of knowledge and of understanding- a main hub of arcane knowledge- and those at the Circle forbade me from even thinking of it! _

_I need to rest, my temper is getting the better of me and I fear there is something watching me as I scribble into my vellum furiously. Hopefully it's just the ram's wife seeking revenge for my clumsy slaughter of its other half. _

_9:00 Dragon, 11__th__ Wintermarch_

_It was not the ram's wife. _

_It most definitely wasn't. The villagers had spoken about the Witch of the Wilds and of course I had taken their warnings in jest. _

_I wandered for a few days, past ancient ruins and enjoyed the freedom that radiated from the place's very soul. The Fade was thin here and I could almost taste the memories of the spirits that wandered alongside me. It was then when I stumbled by a hut by a small pond -in good repair may I add- and sitting outside the hut was a woman with a wicked grin and stark yellow eyes. If ever there was a time I doubted my own powers it was in the presence of this woman. She smiled at me and told me to sit and asked me about my research nonchalantly, offering me a drink and a slice of bread whilst she dealt with the small child that seemed to beg for her attention. After shooing the toddler away and distracting the little girl with what I hope was a biscuit and not a flattened out piece of dung, she continued her talk. I was growing more and more alarmed at the woman's knowledge and then when I was about to bid her farewell she said my name. She said "Not so fast, Malcolm Hawke" and it was then I realised why the villagers didn't want the herbs that badly. She told me to leave my path, to forget my work and to return back to the Circle. She claimed that I would start a chain of events that not even "my" Maker could stop. I refused. _

_Maker, I refused her stupid request. Why should I have to lock myself away just because the daft old bat is set in her ways and doesn't want anyone disturbing her and her granddaughter –I am praying that it is her granddaughter because I would sorely feel for the man who spawned with the old hag, though mildly impressed the old girl's still got enough in her to birth a child- who is she to decide the fate of others?_

_She claimed she was Flemeth, or more commonly known in text books as Asha'bellanar- the woman of many years- and me of course being the prat that I am- decided to go against a woman who claimed to be Flemeth with a bloody pen knife and a ball of fire. She laughed at the sight of me and I really don't blame the woman. I think if I was rumoured to be one of the most powerful creatures in Thedas and was challenged by a twenty year old man who has only just stopped wearing a dress I'd laugh too. _

_She stopped laughing and became serious then; she looked at the child playing with a crow that cawed to the child's amusement. "By your own actions will you cage your bird and even I cannot stop the wolf that will prowl, but you make your own destiny! Now, carry on with your quest, lad! Leave before I change my mind, you're stirring a hunger that I thought had been quelled and I must be responsible for the little one!" _

_I don't know what to think of the woman, apart from that she spoke in too many riddles, as if she enjoyed watching me squirm. If she was Flemeth, then she should have killed me when she had the chance. I will never allow my magic to be squandered; it is not to serve which is most base in me. _

_I wonder where the templars have gotten to. I half expected them to have caught me by now. _


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46. **

**So guys, I know everyone was expecting some Hawke and Fenris fluff time, but I think this seems a lot more in character for them. Would Fenris or Hawke really open up about their feelings and their past experiences so easily? Their relationship moves, but sluggishly it seems. But it will happen. I promise! **

**Love to my beta LostSpace for her amazing work, and all my reviewers, positive or negative I value everything you tell me. Please drop me a message anytime, even if it's to criticise, I admire honesty. And to everyone who just reads this, you silent guys are awesome too! **

**X**

Hawke gathered her belongings and walked towards the Viscount's Keep happily. She tried to move as fast as she could without looking suspicious, but no one seemed to bat an eyelid at Aria Amell walking through town in her usual pretty gown and a bag in her hand. She froze to the spot when she heard someone call her.

"H- Mistress Amell," a curt voice called from behind her.

She turned around to see Knight Captain Cullen moving towards her, the heavy armour seemed almost weightless as he sprinted towards her quickly for a man in such heavily clad armour.

"Good day, Knight Captain," Hawke said, curtseying to him as he blushed at her furiously.

"Good day, Mistress Amell. I apologise, sometimes I call you by your old name, it suits you better," he added with a blush on his cheeks. Cullen was handsome but he was too nervous, too fidgety around any dame, never mind her, yet she could see why her mother admired him so much.

"Yes, well we all have to do things we do not like in order to get things we want out of life," Hawke said, gripping her bag tighter under Cullen's gaze.

"Indeed. I was wondering if you needed any assistance with your bag. It seems quite heavy," he asked shyly, a small smile on his lips.

"Yes, if you don't mind, thank you. It's for the Guard Captain. She does not do things by half that is certain," she agreed, passing him her heavy bag which he took in one hand as if weighed nothing more than air. She smiled warmly at Cullen, he was sweet enough.

They walked along quietly for a moment, and Hawke waited for whatever Cullen really wanted to say.

"Your mother has asked me to take you out for dinner sometime, I did not know you were looking for a suitor," Cullen said, trying to make the question seem nonchalant but failing miserably.

"I'm not, my mother is. The joys of being a prisoner in your own skin," Hawke laughed, but Cullen looked worried for her.

"I hope that one day you may have the courage to be yourself despite what your family thinks," Cullen said, a little too honestly.

"I have my ways, Cullen," Hawke laughed at him as they ascended the stairs to the Keep.

"Good. Too many maidens think that men love dresses, frills and allure. I have been in the Templar Order for some time and can safely confirm it is normally the opposite. You are a good woman," Cullen said, one of his hands flying straight to the back of his neck which he stroked uneasily whilst the other held her bag pack tight.

"I thank you, Cullen. I can see why Amber speaks so fondly of you now," Hawke said, stopping at the door of the Keep.

"Amber-the Hero of Ferelden- she spoke of me? I did not know you corresponded with your cousin," Cullen said, his cheeks turning a shade of pink_. Oh, Amber had spoken about Cullen in Ostagar, about how she had nearly seduced him there and then if it was not for other things getting in the way. _

"I don't. I was in Ostagar," Hawke said, her lips mashed together at the memory of the blood, sweat and carnage all over the battlefield. She had almost died dragging Carver out of the fray of the blight horde.

"I see, I am glad you are safe and well," Cullen concluded, passing her the bag-pack.

"Thank you Cullen, good day to you," she said, turning towards the door.

"Is it possible we may go for a drink sometime?" Cullen blurted out, making her turn back to view the Knight Captain curiously.

"A drink?" she asked, perplexed, staring at the awkward templar and almost laughing at the irony of it all.

"You'll have to ask my mother," she laughed, and entered the Viscount's Keep.

….

No one seemed to look at her as she walked through the Keep to the Guards' Quarters. The nobles were far too busy demanding to see the Viscount and the guards were unperturbed by her presence. It was odd to her that barring her hair she was almost considered normal in such a busy place. She moved quickly and elected to move stealthily as she got closer to the Guards' Quarters, -waiting a moment to ensure she was not seen- and then rushed into Aveline's office.

The Guard Captain was waiting for her at her desk and smiled at her warmly for a moment before returning to her paperwork. "Hurry up and get dressed before someone knocks on the door, Hawke."

"As you say, Aveline. Wouldn't want them to walk in on something that looked like something it wasn't and back up those rumours that you bat for the other team, would we?" Hawke chuckled, cladding herself in her black armour quickly. She clipped each of the buckles tightly, and then attached her hood- this time going for a deep crimson- and veil. The veil was a must in broad daylight, where others were sure to see under her hood. She sheathed her daggers quickly and her belt to boot and threw her other attire in her satchel, kicking it under Aveline's desk almost joyfully. She flexed one of her gloves and enjoyed the feeling of being back in her own skin. She had worn her armour a week ago, but each time she put it on it felt as if a weight had been lifted.

Something lingered this time and as much as she tried to shove it away it pushed back. She denied him every thought she possibly could, but he kept simmering to the front of her mind like he had done the past week. Fenris was stubborn, even the imaginary version of him it seemed.

"We're going to need Anders and Varric, too," Hawke said, adjusting her hood for a moment before turning to look at Aveline.

"I know-"Aveline began but was interrupted by the knock at the door. At the sound of the door knocking Hawke jumped onto one of the arm chairs that resided in the office, perching on it as if she were a bird and waiting for the arrival with anticipation.

"Enter."

A guard walked into the office and Hawke instantly recognised him as Donnic, the man they had saved almost a year ago now. Donnic looked at Hawke for a moment and then turned to face Aveline.

"Guard Captain, I have the report from the Coast for you," Donnic said, handing over a piece of vellum as he flashed Hawke another curious stare.

"Thank you Ser Donnic, how does it fair?" Aveline asked, her cheeks going as red as her hair as she stared at the man. Hawke rolled her eyes at the sight of them. It was easy to see a mile off they were attracted to each other; she didn't understand why they just didn't admit it. Her face dropped as she realised the hypocrisy of her thoughts. She had no right to criticise Aveline's love life when her own was only real when she had too much to drink.

"Well the Coast is spitting up some feisty tides, but all is well Captain," Donnic replied, his tone curt and a small blush on his cheeks, not quite as vivid as Aveline's, as he spoke to her.

"Nothing wrong with that, I enjoy getting wet," Aveline answered, and Hawke had to bite her tongue so she would not howl with laughter at her friend's words. Both Aveline and Donnic seemed to realise what had been said too, as Aveline went completely crimson and Donnic stared at her for a moment completely stunned.

"Guard Captain," he said, bowing his head and then exiting the office quickly.

Aveline turned to Hawke with a stern look on her face, "not a word Hawke, not a single word or so help me I will tell your mother everything."

"You like him," Hawke teased.

"I do."

"Do something about it?" Hawke asked.

"Like what? You're a fine one to talk too, declining every offer you get. I was going to do something about it actually, and maybe you could help me," Aveline said out loud.

"Oh Maker, take me now," Hawke said as she looked up at the ceiling.

"Honestly, it's not that bad. I just need you to give him this," Aveline said, taking something out of the drawer and handing it to Hawke.

Hawke stared at the copper relief for a moment, gingerly fingering the marigolds that had been engraved around it. _She thought she was bad at relationships…_

"And what is he going to do with this? Apart from think I'm a crazy masked figure giving him pieces of copper?" Hawke complained. It was true; he couldn't even see her face.

"Hawke, I have never asked much of you until now. Remember that," Aveline said.

"Fine, one slightly unnerved and probably paranoid guard coming up," Hawke conceded.

"Good. I'll get Varric and Anders here whilst you do that. Shall I call for Fenris, too?" Aveline asked.

"NO!" Hawke blurted out, much more violently than she had intended.

Aveline looked at her for a moment; Hawke could almost see the gears turning as the Guard Captain began to think of the many possible reasons that Hawke and Fenris wouldn't be that close anymore. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime the Guard Captain nodded and Hawke exited the office hastily.

She found Donnic in the guards' quarters sitting down with a mug of water and a book in his hand. As she approached him he turned and smiled at her which startled her for a moment.

"Your secret it safe with me," he said after a while, bowing his head to her in respect.

"How did you know?" she asked, sitting opposite him.

"You should have changed your armour, back then you didn't wear a mask," Donnic said, taking a sip of his water, "How may I be of service to you?"

"I've brought you something, actually. It's my new hobby, delivering confused romantic notions it seems," Hawke replied.

"Here," she said, passing him the copper relief gingerly. Donnic stared at it for a moment utterly confused about what he had just been given. And Hawke couldn't blame him, she'd be the exact same if someone had just randomly handed her a copper relief.

"I don't understand, what am I meant to do with it?" Donnic asked, looking at her perplexed.

"Uhm, throw it in the bin, use it as a coaster so you don't get tea stains, maybe it's a riddle. I don't know, I was just told to deliver it to you, and that is my job done," Hawke said, nodding her farewell and leaving the guardsman to stare at the copper relief completely bewildered.

She sat in the office for a moment and awaited the arrival of her friends. It almost felt like old times, except for the absence of both Fenris and Carver. Carver was far away and Fenris was most likely in no mood to speak to her, especially after her false promises. She was a coward who was unwilling to let herself trust in another.

And the only one she truly trusted was roaming around out of her shadow, just like he always said he'd be.

…..

"I cannot believe you Hawke," Aveline said as she followed Hawke in tow as they trudged down the stairs leading to the docks.

"Not many people can, it's a gift and a curse," Hawke replied mockingly.

"The Hanged Man is not exactly the place where I would want to meet him," Aveline said, in a high pitched voice that didn't seem to belong to her.

"Look, you go for a drink without the armour on, you laugh, you realise you both fancy the pants off each other, it's rather simple," Hawke said.

"No Hawke, you make it sound simple," Aveline scolded, almost stampeding alongside Hawke.

"Relax, we've all got your back here, Hawke was just trying to do you a favour," Varric pitched in, moving as quickly as his short legs would permit.

"No, Hawke was just trying to be a hypocrite. It's what Hawke does, daily," Aveline bit back, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and waiting for the other members to catch her up.

"Anything to input here Blondie that can help this situation? You brag all the time about the ladies you've bedded, surely you must have some charm to help Aveline?" Varric joked, looking at the healer wickedly; Hawke could tell he wanted to know how Anders was so close to her cousin, the Hero of Ferelden, and Varric being his usual self refused to let a good story go unspoken.

"Be yourself, that's basically all I have," Anders chimed in sincerely whilst trying to smile at Aveline warmly.

"Shit, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I miss Broody! Actually, where is our hate riddled former slave today? Wouldn't it have been better to have brought him, since he speaks the same lingo as these guys?" Varric asked curiously.

"We didn't need him Varric, and I hate a smug know-it-all, it's cringe-worthy, "Hawke lied.

Varric stared at her for a moment with narrowed eyes; of course he knew she was lying. Varric was the most perceptive person she had ever met; it's why his tall tales were so believable. They stared at each other for a moment and Hawke thought he was going to question her on the matter further.

"That explains the self-hatred then doesn't it, Chuckles?" Varric replied, a wicked grin slapped across his face.

"Mature, Varric, very mature," Hawke sighed, turning back to Aveline who seemed to have calmed herself down as they stood in front of the gates that led to the Qunari Compound.

Hawke nodded to the others and they made their approach towards the tall brown gates that were guarded by the usual – she didn't know whether it was the same she had met as last time or not, the Qunari all seemed to look similar- hulking Qunari guards.

Aveline took the front of the group then, her stance unyielding as she said in a voice full of authority. "I wish an audience with the Arishok."

The guard gritted his teeth in annoyance as though Aveline had been asking him the same question almost every day. "The Arishok speaks with the Hawk only, only the Hawk is worthy," the guard said in a disgruntled tone.

"Well, it's good that I decided to come this time," Hawke said, moving her veil so that the guards could see her face. Hawke expected a gasp of shock- or at least something- but the two Qunari guards seemed unfazed by her dramatic appearance. Maker she was becoming like Isabela…

"You may pass," they said, moving to the side and allowing the gates to open.

The Qunari hadn't changed from the last time she had walked into the Compound, none of them seemed to age or even move from where they were standing when she had last arrived here. She walked up to where the Arishok sat and bowed her head for a moment.

"You asked for an audience with Hawke, Arishok and I have brought her to you," Aveline said, bypassing the greeting.

"You did. You are not as unworthy as I thought. And yet I sit here viewing the Hawk hiding behind a mask, your society disgusts me," the Arishok said, looking down at Hawke with his usual angry eyes.

"I wear this mask not for my own sake Arishok, it's for the sake of others," Hawke replied, walking closer towards him. "How may I offer my aid to you?" she asked, pulling off her hood and veil.

"The last time I spoke to you, you were nothing but a blade that had been hired to do another's dirty work, but you have changed your fortune. The Qunari have not," The Arishok spat bitterly, pausing for a moment. "I offer you a courtesy, Hawke. Somebody has stolen the formula to what he thinks is the formula to Gaatlock, you will want to hunt him."

Hawke arched her eyebrow at the word being emphasised and almost shuddered to think what the formula was for really. The Qunari were renowned for their methods in war. She remembered Sten that had locked himself in a cage for the crimes he had committed in Lothering. The Qunari forced loyalty so far that those under the Qun did not need punishment; they were already their own executioner. They were crude, to say the least.

"This sounds like the recovery should be worth something to me," Hawke said casually.

The Arishok nodded his agreement, before adding "a thousand lives."

Hawke tried to feign casualness as she ignored her stomach dropping at his words. She almost cursed Aveline out loud for dragging her here. She had promised she was done with all of this, and now she was being told that a thousand lives relied on her getting hold of one of the most coveted formulas in Thedas?

The Arishok spoke again, noting the silence for a moment.

"The stolen formula is a decoy,___Sar-_Q_amek, a deadly poison, not explosives. A small amount is dangerous enough to your kind, but made in quantity, perhaps by someone making it to sell it," the Arishok said, staring at Hawke intensely. _

_"Javaris!" Hawke exclaimed. _

_"Would he remain cautious? Or would he assume success and make enough to threaten a district?" the Arishok asked rhetorically. "A courtesy Hawke, you will want to hunt him."_

_"Thank you for bringing this to me, Arishok," Hawke said politely, bowing once again. _

_"I have long thought this city would destroy itself, this would only hasten the inevitable. Panahedan Hawke, it will be interesting to see if you die," the Arishok said in his usual dull voice. _

_"I hope it's amusing for you if I do, Arishok," Hawke said, turning to leave and feeling the eyes of the Qunari watch as she departed. _

_"You don't have to do this Hawke, we've found out the information we need, let the guard deal with this," Aveline pleaded, as Hawke quickly pulled down her hood and veil as she stepped out of the Compound. _

_"Guards have to adhere to rules Aveline, I can cut corners. Besides, if you didn't want me to be involved, you shouldn't have asked me to come. Deal with your guilt and let's move on," Hawke snapped, trying all she could to remain level headed with the Guard Captain. _

_Aveline stopped for a moment and viewed Hawke with an unrecognisable expression then nodded at her. _

_"Good, anyone else have any problems? Varric? Anders? Justice?" Hawke said disgruntled. _

_"Nope, Bianca's ready as always, Hawke," Varric replied, a grin on his face. _

_"Justice has no qualms with saving people, sweetheart," Anders said, throwing her a smile. _

_"Good, thank the Maker for that. Aveline, rally the guards, and then return to us if you can," Hawke said, nodding a farewell at the Guard Captain as she turned promptly and charged up the docks' stairs. _

_"Shouldn't we go get Broody, now?" Varric asked, looking at Hawke almost humorously. _

_"I think we should go find ourselves a pirate actually, this task requires a great deal of stealth," Hawke replied calmly, glad her face was covered from Varric's view as she was cringing. _

_They made their way towards the steps and Anders groaned loudly. _

_"What's wrong with you, Blondie?" Varric asked, curiously. _

_"I just remembered the last time I was surrounded by a mage and two rogues. I woke up two days later with a bow in my ponytail and a bell tied to… well let's just call it my other tail."_

_Hawke couldn't hold back the tears of laughter that streamed down her face as she carried on walking up the stairs. _

_…_

"I do love it when you invite me to come and play, kitten," Isabela laughed heartily as she slashed the Carta thug's throat with one of her daggers.

"I should most definitely invite you more then," Hawke said with forced breath as she flipped and sunk her daggers into the assassin that was making his way to Anders' back.

"Not as good a view as last time, I have to admit. Where's Shiny?" she asked, kicking her opponent in the throat and staggering him.

"In his mansion, dancing probably," Hawke replied, hitting the thug straight in the groin and stabbing him in the chest.

"Do you think he needs a partner? I do love to dance," Isabela shouted as she ran to cover Hawke's back.

The two women stood back to back slashing the remainder of enemies, their cuts healing as quickly as they were made and a stream of bolts aided them. It was in the thrill of the fight that Hawke missed her old life the most.

There was nothing left but a sea of corpses in the end, and thankfully none of them belonged to her friends. Hawke smiled as she sheathed her daggers in satisfaction.

"I don't think either of you dance the same kind of dance you know," Hawke replied finally.

"Well, you know me kitten, I'm adaptable," Isabela laughed as she began to loot the bodies around her.

"I'll give you that," Hawke conceded.

"Now, honestly here, Hawke. Have you and Fenris fallen out? Was it over who could be the most pretentious?" Isabela asked.

"Fuck you, Isabela," Hawke snapped.

"Anytime Hawke, any place, you can fuck me all you want," Isabela winked, "but the sexual tension that's been breeding around you and our delicious former slave is maddening. If you don't do something soon, someone else will," she said, with an obvious smile.

"And someone else might get angry. The hypothetical situations are endless, Isabela," Hawke said, an insinuating smile on her lips. She did not like the way Isabela casually threw the idea of having sex with Fenris around. It annoyed her.

Hawke stormed off towards the exit of the cave, cursing herself for thinking bringing Isabela was a good idea. Next time she would have to bring Sebastian or Spike with them.

Spike, definitely Spike. Mabari over rants about the Maker any day.

…

"Oh, calm yourself Javaris, you're not dead yet," Hawke said as she sauntered up to the cowering dwarf.

"You? Granny's garters she would get you involved! I can't buy a break on a discount!" Javaris cursed, "You know what? Go ahead, take my head and put it on a pike for the sodding elf! I need the rest!"

"I'm going to cut this pleasant reunion short Javaris as you know I am a woman of little patience. Start talking or I'll take your nether region as a sweet souvenir," Hawke threatened, unsheathing her daggers. She was tired of running around, dealing with the Carta on both sides of the spectrum-killing and working alongside them- all to find this to stupid dwarf.

"Wait-you don't know? Then what, you're tracking for the Qunari? Then she did it, that elf got the Qunari after me for nothing!" Javaris exclaimed, ignoring Hawke's threat as he reeled in anger.

"So, the obvious thief claims innocence," Aveline chimed in, viewing Javaris with disgust.

"Not all those who claim innocence are truly innocent, however," Anders pointed out, narrowing his eyes at the dwarf.

"Look, I'm minding my business and then that elf tries to kill me, said she's got the Qunari powder and I'm her cover. I slipped her and hired some guards and ran for it and now you're here. Great," Javaris admitted sarcastically.

Hawke viewed the dwarf for a moment and knew he was speaking the truth. Javaris couldn't have the formula and Hawke knew this because there wouldn't be just her seeking him out. The Qunari explosive powder was coveted in every part of Thedas.

"You know Javaris, if you're innocent you could plead your case to the Arishok rather than running like a maggot," Hawke spat, disgusted at the walking emblem of cowardice that stood in front of her.

"Let me break this down for you, Hawke. An elf with explosives wants me dead. Part two, the Qunari think I'm a thief and also want me dead. Either option seem promising to you? I don't exactly run around the rooftops with pen knives like you do," Javaris replied.

Javaris sighed, running a hand down his face as if he was trying to wipe away the fatigue.

"You wanna drag dark into light? I had a man follow her- the elf is in Lowtown. I just wanna get out with my dead guards, thanks for that," Javaris continued, looking around at the corpses that were littered on the coast like shells.

"Better luck wherever you are bound Javaris, the further the better," Hawke said, not wanting pointless blood on her hands. Javaris was annoying and pig headed, but so were many others that she knew. At least this one would be leaving for further shores away from her.

"Right, got me a rosy future planned out. Think I'll start by selling some boots!" Javaris said, his voice dripping with the same antagonising wit that annoyed and humoured Hawke at the same time.

"Grateful for your life as always, you ass," Hawke sighed, turning away to walk back through the cave, leaving Javaris to curse her whilst looting the guards' corpses for anything of value.

"What's the plan, Hawke?" Varric asked, seemingly merry despite the present situation.

"We need to go find that elf and you all need to cover your faces. Whatever the elf is making isn't explosive but it will definitely be poisonous," Hawke concluded.

"I don't have a scarf and I don't want to rip my clothes," Isabela interrupted, making everyone else in the group turn around and stare at her incredulously.

"What?" Isabela asked looking down at her dress which was already ripping in protest due to her large cleavage.

"I don't mean right now you dolt, I mean in a few hours after everyone in my house has retired to their evening activities. Aveline, I expect you to be at the Hanged Man waiting for Donnic when I arrive," Hawke said, her voice almost scolding as she looked at the embarrassed Guard Captain.

"Wait, Lady Man Hands has bagged herself a date, so she's excused? So the rest of us have to go traipsing through Qunari swill whilst she gets to cop a feel of some man?" Isabela asked, just as incredulously as everyone else had sounded moments ago.

"Yes, that's right. And when your dates aren't a quick fumble in your room and are actually of feelings that don't come from your small clothes you can be excused," Hawke replied coolly.

"Well, I'm never going to get excused," Isabela sighed, and started walking towards the cave.

Hawke silently agreed with Isabela and followed her towards the cave.

_This is never going to end well. _


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

**Apologies for this being late! Life has got in the way a lot and I am seriously sorry about that. **

**Much love to those who reviewed/read/followed/favourite whilst I was away, you guys have been amazing so far and I value your support. **

**My beta, LostSpace is someone I am thankful for! Thank you for all your help! You're amazing!**

Fenris walked into the Hanged Man, scanning the tavern for the dwarf. After noticing Varric's absence he quickly ordered a drink and sat at one of the tables that was tucked away in the corner and decided to wait for the dwarf's eventual return. It was not out of character for Varric to be late for their weekly game of Wicked Grace. Sometimes it was whatever the blasted dwarf did with his network of spies or whatever secret organisations that he claimed he was sole patriarch to and sometimes it was more mundane things, like he desired alone time with his crossbow.

Fenris looked down at his hands lost in thought. It had been a week since Hawke and he had kissed and that she had promised to return to him. She had broken her promise to him and at first he wanted to bang on the Amell mansion door and demand an explanation, but as he reeled in his bitterness he realised that Hawke was not the only one to blame. He had noticed the difference in Hawke from the moment she had returned weeks ago, but never realised to what extent. She was just as scared as he was about what had happened; Hawke was tied down by people he lacked in his life.

He did not know where his passion came from. One moment white hot rage had hit him and set light to his markings and caused his anger to be taken out on Hawke, then the next he was laying on top of her claiming her with his mouth. It was... absurd. He did not like to touch; touching had never been a pleasant experience to him. Every time Danarius had touched him or Hadriana had made him succumb to her wicked wants he felt nothing but pain. Touch for a slave was like a noose, affection was imaginary and to say otherwise was ridiculous.

It annoyed him how Hawke had forgotten her promises to her friends as she played the part of noble woman. She acted as if she did not care about them, and though he did not care for them either the others did not look up to him as they did Hawke. Her word had been her bond. Since her brother had left the blood mage had hidden in her house with her demons, the abomination had become more obsessed with his goal, even Varric seemed distant as he worked in the Merchant's Guild, staying in Hightown more often than the Hanged Man some days. Hawke failed to see the effect her absence was having on her friends.

"Stare any harder into your drink and it may taste worse than before," Isabela laughed as she sat down on the stool opposite him with a coy grin smeared across her face.

"I doubt that is possible," Fenris snorted, taking a swig of the Hanged Man's finest ale.

"Varric isn't here tonight unless you've decided to take me up on my offer, Fenny?" Isabela asked, her voice a quiet purr as her smiled widened. Fenris' stomach dropped at Isabela's use of the nickname that Hawke had given him. It seemed even when he tried to push Hawke out of his mind she somehow clambered back in.

"I'd rather not," Fenris snorted again, rolling his eyes at the pirate who had folded her arms as she threw him a feigned disappointed look.

"Hawke said as much too, in fact she was adamant about it. Care to explain how Hawke seems to know so much about your sexual appetite?" Isabela asked, a grin reappearing on her bronze face.

"I thought it was common knowledge I'd rather not sleep with you, I apologise if I did not make myself clear on the matter," Fenris said.

"Deny me all you want, I always win in the end. Although I don't really think it would be worth crossing Hawke, she was rather annoyed when I brought it up today," Isabela said, her grin playing on her lips as she continued with her game. Fenris knew what Isabela was doing; the pirate knew he would be curious as to why she was with Hawke today.

"Was she?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, she was. And now she's off hunting for a crazy elf who's made a load of Qunari sam-coo-nark, or whatever it's called, instead of the explosives she thought she stole. I'm glad I pissed her off so -"

"What did you say the elf had created?" Fenris interrupted, his eyes growing wide in shock. Sar-qamek was highly poisonous even in the smallest of quantities. He had witnessed the effects of the poison from a distance and it was grim to say the least.

"Oh, I don't know, Qunari always seem to make up the most ridiculous names for things, Arishok, Qun, Sten, seriously who makes this stuff up?" Isabela said, merrily drinking her bottle of wine as she chuckled to herself.

"Where is she?" Fenris asked in a determined tone. Hawke, as always, overestimated herself; the poison could easily kill everyone in the party.

"I don't know, some foundry at Lowtown. I don't see why you're getting your knickers in a twist-" Isabela said.

"You would if you had seen what one bottle of the poison did to an entire regiment of Tevinter soldiers," Fenris snapped, standing up and sheathing his great sword on his back and turning without giving Isabela a second's thought.

"Shit! That elf is making piles of the stuff, is that as bad as I think it is?" Isabela said concern drenching her face as Fenris looked at her. He realised this was the first time he had seen the pirate queen openly express an emotion that did not relate to her loins, but chose not to comment due to the urgency of the situation.

"Who is Hawke with?" he asked as they walked quickly out of the Hanged Man.

"Anders, Varric and Merrill. It was meant to be Lady Man Hands but Hawke and her had an argument about how Big Girl couldn't bring herself to go on her date and abandoned Hawke to deal with a guard who now thinks Hawke wants to get in his pants," Isabela replied, throwing the bottle of empty wine to the floor with a loud smash.

"Then we must hurry, Hawke is too confident in her abilities and she will not understand what is happening until she inhales the poison," Fenris said, ignoring Isabela's gossip and quickening his pace. Despite recent events he would not allow Hawke to be hurt.

"Fenris, what does it do?" Isabela asked her voice quieter than he had ever heard it.

"It drives you mad. The poison itself is a hallucinogenic for the most part but I believe there are other ingredients to worsen the symptoms," Fenris replied, breaking into a run before waiting for Isabela's reply. Hawke was strong, and Fenris gave her credit when due, but the blood mage and the abomination were both easy targets for the poison. It would hurt Hawke more than a blade if her so called friends betrayed her.

….

"All of you, I can't fight the damned air, you want to live then stay out!" the guard commanded, looking directly at Fenris who glared back in frustration. Before he could verbally express his annoyance at the guard, the voice of the Guard Captain simmered through the crowd.

"Guardsman, state the situation," she said, barging through the masses of people that were waiting for news.

"Guard Captain! I cannot even begin to describe it, it is as if the air down there is sending everyone insane," the guard stammered whilst saluting dutifully.

Aveline turned and looked around at the crowd behind her, scanning the scene and Fenris immediately knew she was searching for Hawke. When the Guard Captain's eyes fell on Fenris however, they grew wide in disbelief.

"Why aren't you with Hawke?" she asked in shock.

"We could say the same for you Lady Man Hands," Isabela said, popping through the crowd with a newly acquired bag of gold, which Fenris suspected came from the guard.

"Shut it Slattern! Now is not the time! This means they have gone in without a warrior defending them! If I'd have known I would have stayed!" Aveline said more to herself than anyone. But what irked Fenris was that Hawke did not feel she could call on him for his sword any longer. Did this mean they were no longer allies?

"Speculation accounts for nothing if we are not allowed through this gate," Fenris snapped, waking the Guard Captain from her guilt ridden thoughts.

"The Hawk has gone through here hasn't he guardsman?" Aveline asked the guard in a hurried tone.

"I-yes, I was assured he would put the matter to rest," the guard admitted.

"Open the gate, we're going in," Aveline commanded and the guard obliged without a moment's hesitation.

Fenris quickly pushed past everyone else and rushed through the foundry alleys, trying to ignore the thick broth like air that swam in his lungs. He could hear the catlike sprint of Isabela following him, accompanied by the loud clash of metal that confirmed Aveline was also close by. It felt odd to be the leader of one of their expeditions for once, it was always Hawke that charged in front of them and lead them to where they needed to be.

He heard the clashing of swords and instantly unsheathed his great sword, readying himself to join the fray. As they turned the corner they heard the exhausted shout of Hawke coming from the mist. He had never expected to be so happy to hear her sarcastic remarks but here he was, joyful that she was still alive.

"Shit! Varric, he's turned! Get away from Anders!" Hawke's panicked shout came from the mist.

"Hawke! Do you want to do something about Blondie? Dodging swords and balls of fire is difficult!" Varric shouted.

Fenris saw the dwarf being attacked on both ends as he came into the fray of the battle. The blood mage laid unconscious on the floor -she had obviously been the one who was first to crack under the effects of the poison. Fenris lit his brands and charged, swiping his great sword at the enemies that cornered the dwarf causing them to fall to the floor with ease. It seemed the poison had also taken effect on those who had unleashed it.

The fireball that almost singed him woke him from his thoughts and he swirled around and glared angrily at the abomination who threw them in every direction, sobbing to himself as he did so. Fenris turned back to the dwarf who flashed him a wicked grin.

"Go on, call it a thanks for saving my ass just now," the dwarf chuckled in a raspy tone; the poison had obviously begun to take its toll.

Fenris grinned for a moment and moved towards the abomination, whose eyes were closed as he whimpered and muttered. It seemed his spirit could not protect him from the Qunari poison as it had done with the demon in the Deep Roads. The abomination appeared on the brink of madness, muttering in a weak and sobbing voice and Fenris wondered for a moment if he would remember what was about to happen to him.

_He thoroughly hoped so._

Fenris closed the distance between him and the abomination and knocked the idiotic mage unconscious in one enthusiastic punch. The abomination fell straight to the floor and Fenris gave him another short glance of satisfaction before running back into the fray to assist Hawke.

He found Hawke battling an elven woman who held a great sword in her arm with as much ease as Hawke held her daggers. The two women darted around each other and he could see Hawke's exhaustion just by her stance.

"ISABELA, AVELINE HURRY UP WITH THAT LAST BARREL!" Hawke screamed, her face almost pained as she continued to fight. Fenris turned to see Isabela and Aveline closing what seemed to be the last of the barrels, though Isabela almost seemed drunk as she swayed, trying to get the last lock into the vat as Aveline defended her from the stragglers of mercenaries.

Hawke continued to battle the elven woman up the stairs of the foundry, coughing as she did so. Fenris began to pick off as many of the remaining mercenaries as he could.

_Fenris…_

He froze at the sound of Hadriana's voice in fear. He looked around wildly and tried to convince himself that she was not here, the effects of the poison were taking place but he could not. Paranoia gripped his body and he stared up at Hawke as she continued to fight.

Everything else happened so fast, it felt as if he had merely blinked and everything had already transpired.

He heard the cheers of Isabela as the last barrel had been locked and the poison was no longer a severe threat to the city, then he watched the dwarf collapse in exhaustion as the poison took its toll. Hawke laughed at Isabela's cheers, -almost in slow motion to him- and then her attempt to dodge the elven woman –whom he assumed was the group's leader- failed, and the large sword carved into Hawke's stomach, who collapsed almost instantly in pain.

"NO!" Fenris roared, becoming a mere ghost as he zoomed up the stairs.

He had felt every kind of pain imaginable, but the pain that coursed through him at the sight of the blade carving its way through Hawke's body as if she was made of butter was most definitely one of the most intense he had ever experienced. He cornered the elven woman, who had left her weapon inside of Hawke and growled at her savagely.

"Do what you will, the damage I created has fulfilled its purpose," she whispered, a mad grin on her face.

Fenris snarled at the woman's grin and bent down for a moment, ripping her heart out with a sickening crack and just as quickly throwing it to the floor.

He ran back towards Hawke who was leant against the banister of the stairs. He could not fully see her face but her eyes screamed that she was in agony. He pulled down her veil to help her breathe, he could think of little else to do.

"Wake Anders up," Aveline commanded to Isabela, who darted down the stairs without even replying.

Fenris watched as Hawke contorted in pain, unable to do anything.

"I'm sorry, Fenris," she whispered.

"I'm here, Hawke," he said, trying to make his voice louder but failing.

"You're really here, or are you another side effect from the poison?" she asked, panting in pain.

"I can assure you I am real, though you may pretend otherwise if it makes you feel better," Fenris said, his eyes flicking to the sword that was embedded into her stomach and the crimson blood that had begun to leak from her armour. His stomach dropped at the sight of Hawke, he had for so long believed her to be invincible. He looked in her belt in panic, hoping for a healing balm of any kind, then he searched his own belt and realised what little he had was long gone. His eyes flickered to the stairs and then to Aveline who was frozen to the spot staring at her friend with a grief stricken expression as if Hawke was already dead.

"Shit, this hurts. I'm sorry Fenris, I, ugh, I," Hawke began, and he knew she was trying to explain herself in what she thought were her last moments of life.

"You may apologise another time Hawke, preferably when there isn't a sword sticking out of your body," Fenris replied, but Hawke's eyes had begun to shut, he knew what was going to happen and it felt as if he was being ripped apart himself as he watched the colour drain from her face.

The abomination screamed as he ascended the stairs, viewing Hawke with disbelief. It seemed Fenris was not as different as the other companions. They too, had believed Hawke was invincible.

"Hawke?" Isabela asked in a serious tone that did not suit the pirate queen. "I'll go get Merrill and Varric out of here, you better save her life or you better run if you fail."

The abomination looked at the retreating figure of Isabela for a moment and then grabbed Hawke and turned her to her side so that the hilt of the sword was facing Fenris. Fenris glared at the abomination, confused to what he was doing for a moment.

"On three," the abomination said, looking at Fenris with a questioning stare. Fenris recalled one of the first memories of Hawke being injured, the abomination had said the exact same words but to Carver Hawke.

Fenris nodded his confirmation; he would not let Hawke die.

"One."

"Two."

If there was a Maker, Fenris hoped he would save her.

"THREE!"

Fenris ripped the sword out as quickly as he could and the blue glow of the abomination surrounded Hawke's body milliseconds after, halting Hawke's agonising scream. The blue glow lingered longer than Fenris had ever witnessed and he could see the strain in the abomination's face. After a moment Hawke exhaled a loud gurgling breath and for a moment Fenris did not hate every part of the mage's being.

Hawke laid on the floor, pale, but breathing, and Fenris was thankful for that.

"Thank the Maker," Aveline sighed, looking at Hawke who now seemed uninjured, apart from the gaping hole in her armour.

"She's not out of it yet, she's lost too much blood and I am in need of supplies. We need to get out of here as well, the air is still infected," the abomination stated in a professional tone. Fenris noticed how weak the mage seemed and realised how little energy the abomination had left from healing Hawke. It made him doubt whether the mage could walk, let alone save Hawke.

"Fenris, you must go with Anders and take her home. I will assist Isabela with Merrill and Varric. I fear the queue for Anders' clinic is going to be a long one tonight," Aveline said in her usual stern voice.

The abomination nodded his agreement and Fenris decided against arguing with the abomination. The poison had taken its toll on his body and right now Hawke laying limp on the floor was his only concern.

Fenris lifted Hawke as best as he could and looked down on the pale woman that once stood so tall she seemed almost immortal. The abomination stared at him for a moment, as if wanting to say something but not quite knowing what it was. After a long pause between the two men, the abomination threw Fenris one final glare.

"I never thought I'd say this, but thank you for punching me in the face."


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter forty eight- **

**Huge shout out to my amazing beta LostSpace for all her help with this chapter!**

**Thank you so much for my reviews/favorites/follows/reads! You guys are so awesome and I love reading such amazing feedback! Don't want to spoil too much but chapter 50/51 are going to be interesting to say the least! **

**Love**

**Lunaa x**

Hawke woke up to the sound of pottery smashing and shot up instantly. She regretted it instantly also, because it stung to move so quickly. She let her eyes readjust to her surroundings and with a sigh of relief realised she was safe and well at the Amell estate, rather than the dingy foundry where she had last recalled being awake. Her memories hit her quickly and she realised what happened and winced in both pain and realisation at the recollection. There were several things rushing in her drowsy mind at that moment: the first that her mother must know what she had done, the second that she had been stabbed severely and Fenris was there when she thought she was going to die and the third, and ultimately saddening realisation, that her mother now knew she had broken her promise and Leandra would get locked up for killing her last remaining child.

She pulled on her house boots and made her way to the door slowly-her body was stiff and her stomach was sore, to say the least- hoping to find a glass of water before finding her mother. But at the sound of her bedroom door opening the conversation between her mother and Bodhan faltered and she knew too well she had already been found out.

Hawke descended the stairs to find her mother staring at her almost in tears but with furrowed brows to also express her annoyance. _Yep, she was dead…_

"You should be in bed Aria. Bodhan, see that these new flowers from Laurence are put in a fresh vase," Mother demanded, leaving the pair of them alone.

"I'm so sorry Mother, I-" Hawke began, but her mother quickly cut her off.

"Save your words child. Once again I watched as my child fought with death except this time luck was on my side. It is good Anders is skilled at what he does. You have lied to me and I knew you were lying all along on your secret night adventures, but this time you risked your life too closely! When will this stop being a game for you, Aria? When will you realise that I cannot bear to lose another child! I do not wish to be alone!" her mother ranted, her anger shifting from emotions of happiness to see Hawke was alive and well.

"I am not sorry for saving those people, I am sorry that it hurts you so much," Hawke replied, too weak to find the strength to argue.

"And would these people so willingly give their lives for you? You have shamed me by your lies but I should have known this would happen. You are not made to hide who you are, whoever that is. I feel that I never knew my daughter, not like your father knew you. Perhaps it is my fault, for distracting myself with Bethany in the hopes one of my daughters would prefer flowers to swords, perhaps it was your father's for letting you do what you wanted. Either way, once again, I sit here disappointed because you broke another promise," Leandra said, making Hawke bow her head in defeat.

"I understand Mother, I will leave if that is what you wish," Hawke said, sadness drowning her every thought at her mother's disappointment, she was always the same. She could never keep her promises, not to her family, her friends, not even to Fenris. It would always be the same.

The silence between them seemed to last forever until Hawke decided to speak again. She had hoped her mother did not wish to disown her but from the frown that painted her matriarch's face it would seem she did.

"Every time I fight, I fight for you. I fight for the ones whose mother's lives are on the edge as the enemy draws near. If I could not defend you, I would pray for someone like me to come along," she said, a tear trickling down her cheek at the thought of her mother no longer being here.

Leandra wiped away her silent tears before looking at Hawke. "There can be no compromise, I cannot do this any longer. Your choices are what will surely lead me to my grave."

Hawke gasped as her mother departed quickly, not allowing for her to reply back to her words that still echoed in her mind. She looked around at the mansion and the splendour that she had built for herself and realised the disappointment she always was. She did not belong here, she did not deserve this life. She should be with Carver, she needed to leave…

She needed to run.

….

Hawke closed the Amell door, quietly ignoring the sharp pain that was in her stomach. She was not yet fully recovered but her entire body felt numb the moment her mother had turned to her and spoken those words. Her mother's words rung with truth, however. Hawke could never keep promises. She had been thinking about those words for four hours as she sat on her bed, wondering what she could do to make amends. She exhaled a pained breath and stared at the abandoned mansion that was a mere stone's throw away and realised what was needed of her.

She had broken so many promises, it was time she began to follow them through. Without even considering the aftermath of her choices she walked towards the mansion and opened the door knowing there would be a certain Tevinter elf inside who would most likely be on his fourth bottle of wine by now.

She opened the door and walked in freely, without stealth, expecting Fenris to charge at her expecting her to be his former master. What she did not expect was to hear the deep chuckle of Fenris accompanied by the tinkling laugh of another woman. She froze in shock, of all of the things she expected to happen when she walked into Fenris' mansion this was not one of the scenarios that played out in her mind. She had expected his annoyance, possibly his forgiveness, but never had she thought that he might have his own company.

She walked up the stairs casually, wanting to make sure her presence was known so that she didn't walk in on something that might cause her more pain. Her mother's disappointment was already screaming in her mind, she didn't think she could stand watching Fenris being groped by another woman. It astonished her that she felt so strongly about the subject, but she was beginning to realise that her feelings towards Fenris would always be more than just friends.

"So the seneschal's tax collector won't be coming around like you asked. Funny story," Isabela said, her tinkling voice feeling almost like knives to Hawke as she made her way to the door. Of course it would be Isabela, why shouldn't it be? Isabela was simple, she did not have the troubles that Hawke had and she was beautiful. Hawke tried not to let her emotions get the better of her, yet it felt that they were about to rip her in two. She felt raw and scolded at the same time. It terrified her that her once impenetrable mask of steel had begun to collapse and she no longer had the capacity to regain control.

"I'll pass, but thank-you for that," Fenris said.

"Spoilsport, why you want to squat up here in Hightown is beyond me," Isabela purred as Hawke moved towards the door, glaring at the back of the pirate's head and wishing it would explode. Isabela was her friend and yet the sight of her purring at Fenris and sitting in his mansion knocked her back. She had never considered Fenris being available to others, it had never crossed her mind. She could feel the slight crackle of her magic in the back of her mind but reigned it in, her emotions were becoming her master and controlling her once again. She could not let it happen. Feelings were for those with stronger hearts, Hawke's heart felt trampled on, destroyed and thrown to the ground. And it was all her own doing. No one forced her to betray her mother, no one forced her to ignore Fenris and no one forced her to stand at the door of his bedroom, watching her two friends flirt with each other with her own eyes.

"I like the view," Fenris replied, a smug smirk on his lips.

Hawke moved closer towards the door in a desperate attempt to make her presence known. She took down her veil and a look of shock momentarily reflected on Fenris' face, which was quickly hidden away by his usual stoic expression. Isabela turned and nodded to Hawke as she made her way to depart, pausing for a moment at the door as she turned to Fenris and said provocatively "so do I."

Hawke bit her tongue as the pirate departed and stood there for a moment in silence as she stared at the elf who now had a pink tinge to his ears. She understood what they were to each other very well now, she understood exactly how Fenris felt. If she was no longer what he was interested in then so be it. It was her own fault and if he wanted something without complications he was well within his rights…

Who was she kidding, it pissed her off well and truly that the bastard stood there flirting with Isabela right in front of her eyes. She had never allowed herself to become the victim of rejection. Even though nothing was set in stone and it could have just been something harmless, she felt as if she had been rejected.

"I see you have recovered, Hawke," Fenris finally said, filling the silence.

"Yes," was all she could say to him. She wanted to say more, yet right now it felt as if there was a barricade in the form of Isabela right in front of them.

"Was there something you wished to discuss? You're out quite late and I had thought we would never speak again. Your mother was furious when we arrived at your home a week ago," Fenris said, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as to why she was there.

"Yes, I can tell you didn't think we'd be talking again. I am glad that Isabela seems so willing to help you," she replied back, hoping he understood the true meaning of her words.

He was silent at her reply and she was glad he realised what she had meant. It frustrated her that she felt something for him. She missed the days when her brother was the only man she cared for.

"I came by to fulfil my promise Fenris, though if you and Isabela have other plans for the evening then I will leave. I have other promises I have not been keeping and I can come back any other time. I also came to apologise now that I lack a sword in my guts and to thank you, too," Hawke said, keeping her expression and tone of voice indifferent and ignoring the jarring pain in her head at the thought of Fenris and Isabela being intimate.

"What? No, no, Isabela and I are not… What is this promise, Hawke? And why now, since you have done nothing but ignore me for the past few weeks, even risking your own life in battle so that you did not have to face me?" Fenris snapped.

"I thought it would be better," Hawke replied, moving towards the window sill and opening the window to reveal the full moon and stars that decorated the night sky of Kirkwall. She stared longingly at it for a moment, wishing her life was simpler. No, she wished that she could have been simpler, for it was not her life but her choices that made these things complicated.

"For who?" Fenris asked quietly, more to himself than anyone and she turned to face him with a sad smile.

"I will teach you how to read, Fenris, but only if you want to," Hawke said seriously. She put the thoughts of her emotions towards this troubled man to the back of her mind. She had so many promises to fulfil and so much forgiveness to seek. She hoped one day they could be together, she hoped for a brighter future, but not now, not when everything in her life was a collision waiting to happen. She could feel it tingling on the back of her neck, a storm was coming and whoever walked in it's path would surely be swept out to sea.

"I have conditions, Hawke," Fenris replied after a long pause.

"Do tell, I'm all ears for what the grumpy ex-slave feels he is entitled to," she chuckled, a fake laugh to ensure that all was right between them.

Fenris obviously saw through her feigned cajoling but let it pass as he replied "No one else must ever know."

"I can do that easily. Why in Thedas would I tell anyone?"

"And when the time comes, Hawke, you won't let yourself fight whatever you are fearful of alone."

Hawke looked at him for a moment, shocked that he could see through her like glass. Was she really that open or was it that they were too alike? She considered his words for a moment before nodding.

"Only if the same applies to you," she replied, staring into the elf's green eyes intensely. She wished that he could read her thoughts and just understand, yet she knew he felt just the same as her. They were two troubled souls that had met each other and ever since then moved further apart when they wanted to be close. She truly seemed to have a thing for complications, for they forever littered her life.

She moved towards the table as quickly as she could, wincing slightly. Fenris rolled his eyes at her as if he already knew she was not yet fully recovered. He moved off of the chair closest to the fire and offered her it, moving the chair that was usually opposite closer whilst she sat down.

She grabbed the quill and vellum she always kept in her bag and after removing her cloak prepared it in front of her. She looked over at Fenris and almost jumped back at how close he was, eyeing the paper curiously for a moment and then staring right back at her.

They were so close and for a moment Hawke felt her control waver at the sight of Fenris so close she could smell him. He smelt of leather and wine and her mind dizzied for a moment in excitement.

She quickly snapped out of it and held the quill in her shaking hand. She would not hurt others and make promises she could not keep. She would help her friends and find a way to seek forgiveness with her mother.

"We should start with alphabet first."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49 **

**So sorry for the delay guys, I've just started a full time job and life has delayed everything as normal!**

**Huge thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites! I love that you guys are so great! I promise to try harder to remain on schedule with my posting and I hope you all enjoy reading this. **

**Thank you to my beta, LostSpace for being amazing! If it wasn't for her beta skills, I wouldn't still be here!**

**Love, Luna. **

_9:00 Dragon, 3__rd__ Guardian, _

_I now no longer travel alone and have found not only kin but someone I hope to call a friend. His name is Quentin and he –very much like myself- was censored for his passion for other research. Quentin has a good number of years researching the method in which elves evaded death. It is his passion to create a way to never have to die. Granted, I find this idea outlandish and not only that but how would Thedas support a world where no one ages yet the population grows? Although I feel where Quentin and I are similar in our passion for our research, I think Quentin's plans only benefit himself and a close few. I, for one, would not enjoy living forever, what would be the point? What would happen when there was nothing left to learn because you had spent an age discovering it all? Regardless, I should not jest about his work. He most likely thinks I'm just an insane idealist. Either way, he too knew of the mage in the village near Redcliffe which makes me question whether we're actually going to knock on this so called mage's door or we're going to happily skip into a regiment of templars already preparing to smack a sun on our forehead. Freedom is glorious, I enjoy it everyday, but the constant worry that today may be my last sours the experience, to say the least. I am not alone now, that is one thing. Quentin is also an excellent cook, though a little intense with his culinary skills. I have never witnessed anyone so precise about everything, he is definitely a perfectionist that is for sure. Quentin seems to have a dark side, however. The way he speaks about some things sends shivers down my spine. He speaks of our heritage as though it is a right to godhood, as if because we can conjure fire then all those who deny us should burn. It is not uncommon. Tevinter is a fine example of it and I doubt the man truly means the words he says. Though, I wonder. We came across a field abundant with vandal aria today, swaying in the winter's air. The herbalist at the circle, Elaine, always spoke fondly of them and I remember how annoyed she was when the requisition she had ordered –about twenty vandal arias- was denied as it was classed as improper use. The woman merely wanted to show the children how to make the water change colour and how they could be used in fireworks. As I walked through the field, viewing the vandal arias I remembered the old herbalist who just wanted to make those children smile and it created waves of inspiration. Elaine is one of the reasons my work is so important. I must strive forward and make my dream come true. If I ever were to become a father, I pray to the Maker -or whatever is truly up there- that my child will be as free as the vandal arias I saw today, swaying in the breeze. And I pray that their freedom will never be compromised even if they are born with magic. _

_The mage that lives in the village is rumoured to own a golem, which is most likely one of the reasons the templars have left him alone. Quentin also wishes to go to speak with the mage. Golems are immortal. I laughed at the very thought of Quentin becoming a golem. Though I bet it would be an improvement on his appearance! _

_9:00 Dragon, 6__th__ Guardian _

_We were ambushed. _

_I write this as I sit across from Quentin, who is staring into the fire with an intense gaze. We were halfway towards our destination, walking through a clearing when we came across the templars who had been waiting for us all along. They did not want me; they did not even know my name. It was Quentin they desired and they looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes that I could only ever compare to a pack of hungry wolves. At first, I defended him and spat insults at them. The usual things you would hear a convict call their captors, but the templar, Ser Rowan –he introduced himself, which in itself was odd, but then again they did not know of my true nature, they were from the Free Marches far from the Ferelden Circle- and explained Quentin's crimes. At first I expected them to tell me of how he hurt one of their own, for I had already surmised as much from the hate riddled expressions on each templar's face. But that was not the case. Quentin had bludgeoned one of the other mages in the tower, one of the female mages. I was shocked to see that these templars felt so strongly against it. Quentin, however, remained indifferent as the templars explained how he killed one of his kin, though for what reason they did not explain. They didn't have time to; Quentin quickly began to panic at the prospect of his capture. He slit his wrist and a battle ensued, one I did not participate in because I could not move. I stood in the middle of a battle, my mind dazed as I debated whose side I should be on. In the end I did not make a decision and now I feel as if my hands are smeared with the blood of those men. The men that fought for what they believed was right. I am usually the one who argues that the Chantry is wrong for how they treat us, but now I feel I understand their hatred. Quentin is one of the many mages who set a bad example for our kind. It is because of mages like Quentin that we are shunned and locked in a tower to see out the rest of our days, to then be buried in nameless graves or have our ashes scattered like rubbish. I do not believe blood magic is truly wrong, it is like all magic in the world; harmless. It is us –the mages- that are the true danger if we are to succumb so easily to gain what we wish. I will travel with Quentin until we reach our destination and then once I have gotten what I need for my research I will gladly depart from his company. I longed for a companion, someone I could call a friend in this new found freedom and it seems all I have found is another reason that the world wants to lock mages away in a tower. _

_9:00 Dragon 12__th__ Guardian_

_We have finally reached where we needed to be and I am glad for it. Wilhelm is eccentric and slightly mad, but enthusiastic about the work he is doing with his golem. I suppose the fact that he has complete control over a huge golem does give him some edge over the templars. He was more than happy to give us safe refuge for a while but warned us that there would be templar patrols soon, as they had tightened their leash around the area lately. When he mentioned that I looked at Quentin with knowing eyes as he looked at the old man indifferently. Wilhelm was excited as we discussed my research. He usually dabbles in the work of golems and focus crystals but easily grasped my own work and we began to discuss it enthusiastically. He was shocked to hear my theory of lyrium just like the First Enchanter. I truly believe that lyrium has its own life force –if anything the same basics as that as a plant- and how it would be an excellent conductor to supply the information as mages naturally have it in their body, we are born with it. _

_He was just as enthusiastic at Quentin's research, for it seemed at first that Quentin sought out an anvil to make himself and others golems to aid others. When Quentin revealed that he did not wish to be a golem but just wished for the immortality it seemed that Wilhelm no longer had the same attitude. Quentin did not like that one bit but took what little information he could. Wilhe__i__lm was not rude to him however, merely sceptical of his own personal need to never die, which I suppose any man would be. I feel as if we are making progress finally. Wilhelm has begun to help me with my research, showing me his papers on the work he has done with his own personal golem at testing its cognitive boundaries. Reading some of his experiments made me feel nauseous at the extent of what had been done to the golem and I even began to feel sorry for it. When Wilhelm left to speak to his wife I asked the golem if it was alright to which the thing replied "What does it care if I'm alright?" it then began to ponder out loud as to why my nose is such a big size and that is when my sympathy for the golem ran out. _

_I'm making progress slowly and Wilhelm mentioned to me last night that he knew somebody who would be extremely interested in my work and had the power and gold to see it happen. I am normally sceptical when it comes to such things but, Maker, I need some luck right now. So far I've almost died escaping the Tower, almost died by Flemeth's hand and have been travelling with a deranged blood mage for weeks. Maybe I should ask Wilhelm more about this mystery person. Without any help I know this will project will take me more than one lifetime and if that is the case then I may have to ask Quentin for a favour. _

_Quentin claims that the woman in the Circle attacked him first, that they were lovers and fought when she found out he no longer felt the same. He said that he used blood magic only as a last resort, and his freedom being compromised was what he felt was a last resort. If his story is true or not, I am still leaving to make plans on my own. Quentin is too much of a risk for someone who truly just wishes to be a fugitive in peace rather than trying to fight everyone and their mother. _

_I've been practising my dagger skills with my pen knife. They've improved dramatically and it no longer looks my hands have been attacked by an angry tabby cat. _

**A/N- I'm really enjoying playing with the little web of people in my own invention of people in Malcolm Hawke's story! Hope you enjoyed this short chapter hopefully the next one will make up for it!**


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50 **

**So sorry for the huge delay guys! Life got in the way as usual! Hopefully this chapter makes up for it!**

**Thank you for your support, it means so much to me! You guys have been awesome! Reviews, favourites, follow and reads are awesome to see me!**

**And a huge thank you to my beta LostSpace, for being awesome and helping me despite being so busy! **

**Love,**

**Luna! x**

Hawke couldn't deny the smile on her face as she flipped onto her bedroom balcony, quickly opening her large windows and jumping on her bed skittishly. She felt good about what she had done today, even if it wasn't really much at all. She had given Anders a key to her cellar and brought him the herbs he desperately needed. She had helped Isabela with her search, although after an hour it was quite clear that no one in the Blooming Rose knew anything about the relic Isabela searched for. Hawke was becoming more suspicious of the real reason Isabela needed the relic back every day but shrugged it off at the memory of Isabela thanking her with a slightly awkward embrace. Merrill had also accompanied them –which had taken Hawke a lot of effort- and seemed to have enjoyed herself. Now all that was left for Hawke to do was try and gain her mother's forgiveness. She had been considering asking Cullen if he was still interested in taking her for dinner. Cullen was the Knight Captain, a highly respected templar, and he had made it clear to Hawke he liked her just the way she was. It would be something that would please her mother and it would allow her the best of both worlds. There were just two huge problems to her idea, the first being that Cullen was a templar and as much as she disliked the fact, she was still a mage and the second problem came in the form of a certain Tevinter elf.

She sighed into her bedding for a moment, lost in her worries as usual. However, her troubled thoughts were cut short from the loud barks of Spike and the string of profanities that could only ever belong to Gamlen Amell. She threw off her hood and veil and made her way to the balcony and raised an eyebrow at the sight before her. Her uncle was batting away Spike whilst trying to communicate with Sandal, which was getting the drunken fool nowhere.

"Calm yourself, Uncle. I'm sure if you wait for Bodhan he will direct you to the nearest barrel of ale for you to drown yourself in. Feel free to take it with you," Hawke drawled as she descended the stairs. It was well known that she had little love for her uncle, who had made life difficult -to say the least- whilst they had lived with him.

"Look at you in your armour, still pretending to be a man, I see. I don't care for your ale or your piss poor insults girl; I'm looking for your mother. She was upset when I spoke to her yesterday and now she hasn't turned up for her weekly visit? Is she feeling alright or have you broken her heart more?" Gamlen spat his words causing Hawke's chest to constrict. She had hoped she could mend the bridges she burnt with mother tonight.

"She's obviously not in, are you sure she isn't just waiting for you at your cesspool of a home? Or have you gotten so drunk that you've missed a day and she was meant to visit you yesterday?" Hawke snapped back.

"Look, you idiotic whelp! I know when I've see my damn sister and she wasn't there today! Did she say anything to you or to the servants about meeting her suitor today? She isn't usually late and you'd know that if you knew or cared about your own mother! Whilst you've been darting about pretending to be some urban myth in the slums your mother has brought the Amell name back to nobility! You, on the other hand, are a disgrace! Exactly like your father! And another thing-" Gamlen's monologue began to become inaudible over the pounding in Hawke's head. She could feel the blood rushing and suddenly began to feel faint as the stress of her uncle's rant seemed to overcome her. She leant herself against the dresser in the hope it would pass in a moment. Her vision stopped spinning and the first thing that caught her attention were the white lilies that were beginning to age in mother's favourite vase.

Hawke watched one of the petals fall onto the dresser and as it fell Aveline's voice simmered into the front of her mind.

"_Emeric was right all along, I cannot believe it. At least one thing is certain, DuPuis will not be sending out any more lilies." _

The petal landed on the dresser with a thud.

Hawke felt nauseous at the thought, the very idea, of the murderer still being out there on the streets was one thing, but to entertain the idea that the killer desired her mother... No, Maker, she could not think about it. But the more she stared at the bouquet of lilies the more it made sense. The suitor mother had met weeks ago, the lilies he constantly sent to the house and now her mother -the woman who wouldn't even be late to her own funeral- was missing. She gulped in a deep breath and ran to her mother's bedroom praying that she would find her mother in there still angry at her for being such a disappointment.

Her mother was not there and Hawke began to panic as she ran out of the room. The air felt as if it was being sucked out of her. She had never met Lawrence; she had never bothered to even ask for his address… What kind of a daughter was she?

"I will inform the guards. Uncle stay here in case she returns," Hawke shouted as she darted towards her bedroom window.

She prayed that her dark thoughts were nothing more than thoughts.

…..

She handed the urchin boy a silver piece and began to dart through the alleys of Lowtown with Anders, Varric and Fenris following her. It felt like she was stuck in a maze, the streets that she used to know like the back of her hand became foreign to her. Hawke froze in panic, investigating the walls with keen eyes.

_Blood. _

Fresh blood smeared alongside the corner of the wall, a few grisly smears the only trace of evidence she had. The boy mentioned the man was injured, and there was blood to prove this, but the feeling of dread still nagged at her. It seemed like something her mother would do, take pity on an injured person and try and take them to a healer, but it was flawed. Her mother would take the man to Anders who had already looked around Darktown and confirmed Leandra wasn't there.

"Hawke," Fenris started, his voice bringing her back to reality.

"We must hurry," Hawke insisted and carried on searching for the next scrap of evidence.

How could she have not realised? How was it that she was so self-centred that she had not added the factors up and realised what was going on? Her mother was lonely and out of thin air popped a similar aged suitor who her mother found attractive, and sent her the same white lilies every week just like the serial killer she had searched for all those years ago. It was too good to be true that the killer had been caught that easily; they had evaded capture for too long to be found out so quickly. No, Gaspard was a distraction. Emeric was right to an extent, but Gaspard DuPuis was just a puppet dancing for whoever pulled his strings. How could she have not even realised? She wanted to vomit as she continued to follow the trail of blood, each stain fresher and brighter than the last.

She remembered the hand; Ninette's hand was the only thing they could find of her. Hawke tried to reassure herself that she was being too intense, but something was wrong. There was too much blood.

The trail of blood stopped and Hawke looked up at its final destination.

A grisly red handprint decorated the foundry's front door.

It was the same foundry where they had found Ninette's hand.

…

Demons grime and blood magic swamped the tunnels which they walked through. Hawke had not noticed the trap door to this level the last time she had been here but thankfully whoever was doing this had slipped up and left a trail for Hawke to follow. For Fenris to follow, to be more accurate, as it was his observation.

She could hear the whispering and the vibrations of the demons but they did not bother her. She was here to retrieve her mother and bring her back home and that was all. Whoever did this was obviously a very powerful mage and a very sickening one too. The air was filled with the scent of rotting flesh and Hawke ignored the gnawing thoughts that the scent belonged to her mother.

She screamed at the sight of grey hair on a bed but gasped in relief when she found that it was not her mother's limp body but another woman.

"It was the one DuPuis wanted when Aveline dealt with him," Varric said, sadness tinting his voice.

Hawke closed the eyes of the woman and turned away swiftly. She would not rest until her mother was back with her. She shot one last look of pity at the dead woman but moved on.

The invisible stains of blood magic were in every corner of the tunnels, whoever was doing this had made a lot of blood sacrifices that was certain. Hawke could feel the thinness of the Veil as she moved onwards; she could almost feel the spirits move past her.

The last time she had felt something even comparable to this was that night so many years ago and as much as she tried to remain calm, sweat poured down her face and the palms of her hands went clammy.

"Hawke, whoever is doing this is powerful. Sick, but powerful. If they have your mother, do you have a plan?" Anders asked her, waking her from her dark thoughts.

She turned to her companions who all shared the same expression on their faces as they looked at her. Even Fenris' face showed tinges of pity, just like it had in the Deep Roads when she lost Carver. She would not lose anyone else.

She could not lose anyone else.

"The usual thing we do Anders, get my mother out of there and kill the bad guys," Hawke replied, thumbing her daggers as she looked around in the shadows. She could feel eyes gazing at them hungrily.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and her three companions looked at each other as if they were having a telepathic conversation. After a moment, it was Varric who finally spoke.

"Hawke, I think Blondie's asking what do we do if we don't get there in time?" Varric asked, ignoring Hawke's wince at his words.

"We will. And if we don't, run. All of you run and leave me," Hawke said before starting to dart into the maze once again.

…

"What is... this?" Hawke spat, looking around at the intimate shrine that had been made by the fireplace of what looked to be the killer's living quarters. There were books thrown around carelessly but the shrine was immaculate. Hawke stared up at the woman, who looked very similar to her mother, in disgust. Now there was some explanation as to why they had taken mother at least, something that would appear rational to a psychopath rather than just picking women randomly. The woman was not the same as her mother however, her features were harsh and cold, her nose far bigger and the woman's eyes looked bitter as if the artist who painted her was someone she despised very much.

"And this is getting kinda creepy," Varric added, looking at the painting with the same sickened expression.

"I need to find her now," Hawke growled, rushing past a pile of books that Anders had confirmed were books of necromancy. As she rushed by she knocked the pile of books causing them to collapse around her revealing several letters that had been inserted in the books for safe keeping.

She picked up one of the letters gingerly and began to read.

_These are the best I can give you for now, the templars have begun to burn books which are deemed to create temptations for mages or keep them under lock and key. _

_My favour to you is repaid. I wish for no part in this. _

_Malcolm would turn in his grave if he were to see your progression in your work. I do not agree with your methods though I admire your ideology on the subject. _

_O. _

She read the letter quickly again to make sure it was the right name on the letter. The name Malcolm seemed to stick in her vision like a bright light. She had a bad feeling and a curious one at the same time. She shook it off however, now was not the time to be distracted by a single name.

"Aveline will secure this all as evidence later, Hawke," Fenris said, as if he could read her mind.

She nodded as she moved on.

….

"We're close," Anders confirmed as Varric busied himself with the traps.

"I'm ready for him. Anders heal my mother and get her out and see where the guard have gotten to," Hawke said, twirling her daggers to ready herself for the fight.

"Hawke, what if?" Anders started to ask, but quickly became silent.

Hawke looked at her companions with cold eyes; her mother would not be dead.

She twirled the daggers as she threw Anders a sad smile setting the daggers ablaze casually as she did so. She remembered something Anders had said a few years ago about theatrics and magic, it was true.

"I'm with you Hawke, let's go," Varric said as he began to walk past the unarmed trap.

Fenris stood still for a moment, his green eyes staring into hers with an intense concern. He opened his mouth for a moment and thought better of it and began to follow Varric past the trap.

…

Hawke ran towards the figure at the end of the hall her daggers blazing hot fire. The man had his back turned to her and she decided to make her presence known by her loud footsteps. Her companions followed walking with the same casualness that she did and still the man did not turn round. Hawke began to worry that they had been tricked in some way, that the man was not truly there or more likely he was a demon to be used as a distraction.

It was when Hawke got twenty yards away from the man did he swivel round, a sickening grin blazing across his face as he exposed his rotting teeth.

"How much like your mother you look, Aria Hawke," the man greeted her, a grin smearing across his face that Hawke could only ever compare to that of a madman's.

"Cut the shit and tell me where she is. Don't make me kill you now," Hawke growled, raising her daggers that were still on fire to show the sick bastard that her threats were very real.

"Leandra was so sure you'd come for her, Aria," Quentin sneered.

"Mother always knew me best," Hawke spat back.

"Ah, the famous Hawke sarcasm, and judging by your daggers it wasn't just the wit that you inherited from him either. Neither of them did him any good. My apologies, you were there when he died weren't you? How did that all pan out? Malcolm was always a rebel," the man said in a sneering tone.

"You knew my father!? Where is my mother you sick fucking bastard? I will tear your fucking head off and fire it out from a canon and into the deepest fucking ocean I can find if you do not fucking tell me where my mother is right now!" Hawke screamed, bewildered by the man's familiarity with her father.

"You will never understand my cause, just like your high and mighty father never could! Leandra was chosen, and now she is a part of something greater!" the man laughed, moving slightly so that they could see what was hidden behind his back.

Hawke tried to hold her breath as she looked at the rotting corpse that stumbled towards her. She looked at each part of the bride's ensemble and froze in shock when her eyes met with the corpse bride's.

"MOTHER, NO!"


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

**Huge thanks to you all! You've been so supportive of me throughout this year! **

**Here is another chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

**Shout out to my awesome beta for helping me so much with this. LostSpace, I'd be lost without you!**

"Do you know what the most powerful force in the universe is, Aria? It's love. I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, and her delicate fingers and at last her face; her beautiful face! I had lost hope when Eric found me, but then he told me of Leandra, Malcolm Hawke's wife and how her face was so similar to my love's," Quentin ranted.

Hawke's breath halted at the mention of his name. Eric. Eric had returned for her like he always said he would. Her vision dizzied as she felt her entire body constrict in pure fear. Hawke's knees crumbled under the weight of the wolf that was always too close to her back. He had sent this mad man to do his dirty work and took her mother as a bonus. He had destroyed everything in her life and he would not stop. There was no hope for her; the wolf would constantly bite at her ankles until he got his kill.

_So let him have it. _

"Hawke, get up. Get up and kill that bastard before I do," Varric demanded, but his voice turned into background noise as Hawke felt her entire world crumble.

She became emerged in the murky depths of her fear. She had laughed in the faces of demons, danced with dragons and destroyed an ancient terror but at just the mention of his name she crumbled to a pile of dust. And now her friends would truly see her for what she was. A coward hiding behind her sarcasm, a daughter who neglected her own mother and father, a sister who deserted her own brother and sister; she was worthless.

"Your father called me sick, said I had a sickness in my mind that would make even a demon cower. And he was right, can you feel them? They cower for I have touched the face of the Maker and he fears what I have done! And so he should! For I am God!" Quentin cackled, revelling in his victory. His words felt numb as Hawke knelt on the floor in defeat.

"Hawke!" Anders called, kneeling down towards her in an attempt to soothe her. She could hear Varric shuffling his feet readying himself for a fight.

"Hawke," Fenris' voice stood out from the panicked mess that was her mind. She could hear the whispering, the demons and everything else that she had ignored for so long. Her brother's paling face, her sister being thrown by the ogre, her mother's dead eyes, and the screams of the soldiers at Ostagar and the never ending grunts of each and every templar that had defiled her. And his eyes, Eric's cold eyes and sickly grin as he approached her in that cold cell all those years ago...

"HAWKE!" Fenris growled, pulling her towards where he knelt. She stared into his green eyes that burnt brighter than before, his eyebrows knitted in rage as he looked at her in deep concern.

"I had everything once. I had my beautiful wife and my unborn child. Then lost, they were both lost. I have brought my love back, she is here now. They didn't even allow me to see my girl; they did not grant me that. I cannot rebuild something I have never seen, something I have never experienced. Eric wants you dead; he will surely kill us all. I can save you, you can be my Olivia. My little girl, and I will love you better than any man ever could, all you have to say is yes," Quentin carried on, disregarding Hawke's companions and staring at Hawke with bulging eyes.

Hawke turned to stare back at Fenris who looked at her in a flash of worry as if he thought she was considering the offer.

"I will not let you fight this alone," he whispered almost inaudibly so no one else could hear his words.

No. No more, she would not allow it. Retribution must be paid in full, she could not stay with this wolf at her back and she would not allow this sickening bastard to get away with what he had done to her mother. She had failed her mother so many times; she would not do it again. The tsunami of the bitter anger she had held back for so long rushed over her like waves. She did not care if she made it out alive any longer.

She rose, her eyes burning as she glared at Quentin with eyes bright with hatred and anger.

"Run," she said quietly to her companions, she was without mercy and all those who got too close would burn.

Thoughts about her father's involvement, her mother's death and anger coursed through her mind but she ignored them. Her daggers flashed alight and she gritted her teeth, ready for whatever came.

"I don't think you want to do that, it would upset Leandra if I killed you," Quentin said, observing Hawke with a sick grin.

"Fuck you," she spat, shifting into a battle stance.

Quentin's face fell for a moment, but quickly recovered by smearing a sickly smile on his face.

With a flick of a dagger and a small splash of blood several demons barricaded Quentin from her; they slashed their claws threateningly as they took a protective stance over their master.

_Good. Let them come, let them all come and I will send them to the void. _

She charged into the fray without thinking, her thoughts lost to her savage need for blood. She stabbed at everything ignoring her party members as she became transfixed in the blood lust. As one demon fell Quentin raised another but she would not tire. He would suffer, he would bleed like any other man and she would rip out their hearts.

She could hear the sounds of the other members of the party battling alongside her but did not acknowledge them. Her usual style of fighting had gone and her rage became overwhelming as she summoned a fireball in her hand, launching it into the horde of shades that Fenris was battling with. She ignored the burning ache that was trying to overtake her veins, her stamina depleted in one go. What was the use of this curse if she could not do anything with it?

The last demon fell to the ground and became dust at her feet. She looked straight at Quentin with vicious intent and although her companions were closer they did not attempt to battle him. They knew this was Hawke's battle.

Quentin threw her a sickening grin as he raised his barrier.

She ran with her daggers ready to slash but as soon as she approached him she was instantly rebounded into the air and landed on the ground with a thud.

"HAWKE!" she heard Fenris shout but he was soon silenced by Varric's curses.

"Fenris, this is hers!" Anders cried, attempting to hold the former slave back and failing terribly as Fenris knocked him to the ground with a vicious roar. However, Fenris did not move as he watched her with bated breath, as he viewed the scene before him.

"Run!" she ordered, but they ignored her command. She got up quickly and realised the only way she could think to defeat him was to burn him out. If she antagonised the sick bastard to the point where he went on the offensive she could find a way in to attack him. Quentin was powerful; it was evident in the force field that had just launched her in the air.

She wiped the blood from her mouth and walked towards him.

"Do you want to know something before I kill you?" she asked as she approached him, stopping at where the barrier which had thrown her back before.

"Whether you even have the power to kill me is up for debate Aria Hawke, your father would be ashamed. You're one of the most pathetic excuses of a mage I have ever met," Quentin said, his polite tone sending shivers up her spine.

"I'll take that as a compliment coming from you, you sick bastard. But I thought I'd let you mull it over whilst I rip you to pieces. You said your precious daughter died when she was a baby. But she didn't because I met her; she was there when they took me. She was the one who called me weak yet she was the one they disposed of. Your daughter worked for them and their precious cause for all those years, they trained her to be a killer and they destroyed her. You failed her as a father and you should be ashamed, my father had nothing to be ashamed of because at least he gave his life for his children! You deserted yours, you sick deluded bastard! And I hope you rot with all the other scum I have burnt!" Hawke screamed, her hands twitching towards her daggers. She was ready.

Quentin stood shocked for a moment, not processing her words.

"LIAR!" he screamed, launching a ball of fire at her which Hawke quickly dodged.

"Olivia had your eyes but not your hair, her hair was black. Coal black like her mother's, I assume!" Hawke shouted, diving from the assault of fire that Quentin threw at her with ease.

"I have had enough of your foul mouthed lies!" Quentin screamed, launching an assault of magic that she had never witnessed before.

"You want me! Come and get me! I have nothing left to live for! You want me! COME AND GET ME! Take it all! And if you do kill me ask your dear friend Eric what truly happened to your daughter! Did you honestly think he thought you would survive this? I will burn you and he doesn't care, his mission is accomplished! He wanted to tear everything I love away from me and destroy me from the inside out! But I swear, oh I swear on everything I ever stood for, your precious daughter made her way out of there because she has the same sickening eyes that you do!" Hawke screamed manically as she dodged the never ending fireballs that Quentin threw at her. He had started to sweat profusely, his hands shaking as he gripped his staff.

Hawke took her chance as she watched the barrier waver and gave it her all. With a stamp of her foot she sent a fireball hurtling towards him. He laughed at her attempt but she had gotten him right where she wanted him. He was distracted and fatigued.

She threw one of her throwing knives straight at his ankle and he cried out in pain. The blood started to trickle and she could feel Quentin trying to channel into his blood magic but that didn't stop her. She launched another as she charged towards him and this time it pierced straight through his hand and stuck to the wall perfectly. If she had been a better mage, if she had not closed everyone off when she should have held them tight her mother would have still been alive. If she had died that night, everyone would still be okay.

She threw the last one as she drew near, hitting him in his upper calf. He cried out as he gripped onto his staff for support and yet he still called for his demons. They had abandoned him, they had run away as soon as she had become angry and yet he still begged for their return even though he knew it too. The sick bastard was nothing without his demons.

She was inches away from his face when she began to snarl, she ignored the wolf that snarled in rage inside her heart.

"I don't give a fuck if you don't believe me anymore, you sick bastard. I was never one for religion, but I truly hope the Maker fucks you up when you return to his side and there's a special place in hell for you and your darling daughter," she snarled before turning to view the corpse that was her mother.

"You won't kill me Aria Hawke, I knew your father! I was made for a higher purpose; I was made to never die! Malcolm would not do it and neither would you!" Quentin started.

Hawke turned and looked at the bleeding mess that was her mother's killer. She took out one of the vials Tomwise had given her the other week and poured it on Quentin's wounded body.

"You obviously didn't know my father well," she said, conjuring a small ball of fire in her hands and casting it towards Quentin. He set alight within a matter of milliseconds, his screams echoed in the foundry for what seemed like a lifetime before his body stopped moving erratically and became rigid.

She was silent for a moment, looking at the now charred corpse that belonged to Quentin. It was the long drawn out footsteps that came behind her that snapped Hawke out of her thoughts.

"MOTHER!" she screamed as the corpse began to collapse.

She grabbed her mother quickly before she fell and cradled her on the floor like a new born babe. For the first time in what seemed years, what was left of her mother's mangled face smiled at her.

"I am so sorry, I've failed you too. I am so sorry, this is my entire fault," Hawke wept loudly, though her mother snorted at her.

"Don't be, I'll be with Bethany and your father now. I shouldn't have forced you to be something you're not. Now I've seen what you can do and I have never been so proud of you. All those years your father told me you had so much potential and I shrugged you off. You are perfect the way you are," her mother whispered, a chalky grin stretching her greying skin.

"Mother don't go, please, don't leave me," Hawke begged.

"Shhh Aria, I will never go, not truly. I love you so much and I am always proud of you," Mother whispered.

"I love you, Mother," Hawke whimpered.

"Aria, promise me one thing. Promise you'll get over it; you do what you need to do to get over it, find happiness, maybe a husband? A family? I can't bear to think of you here alone," Mother said, her voice becoming quieter as the last of her life energy began to drain.

"I promise."

"Good night my little song bird," Mother whispered and then her eyes began to glass over as death summoned her forwards yet Mother's mouth was still turned into a smile as she stared at something no one else was able to see.

"Malcolm?" Leandra whispered and after that the corpse slumped in defeat.

Hawke held her mother tightly and screamed. She screamed until she ran out of air and even after that she screamed some more. Her companions stood with her silent but there nonetheless. It took the full regiment of guards and Fenris to force Hawke to let go of her mother's dead body. The rain began to pour as it had done so all those months ago.

None of them noticed the hooded figure that departed the scene in a sudden haste.

The wolf was coming.


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52 – Malcolm's choice. **

**Huge thanks for your patience, sorry it took so long. My life is mad right now and I'm still trying to get myself into a routine. **

**Huge thanks to all of you, for everything your reviews have been inspirational!**

**Big thanks to my beta, LostSpace for all her hard work! As always you are awesome.**

**Flashback chapter alert! Enjoy.**

"Wilhelm spoke highly of you both, especially you, Malcolm Hawke," the man said as he took a sip from the ornate porcelain cup. They were sitting in an immaculate office that was decorated with templar shields and various other odd artifacts as well as a copious amount of books. Malcolm shivered slightly at the sight of so much templar propaganda but trusted his instincts that Wilhelm was not the kind of mage to turn on his kin.

"Wilhelm seems the type of man to speak highly of many, sir," Malcolm replied, arching his eyebrow as he read the title of one of the books that stood neatly on the bookshelf. Of all the things he thought an ex-templar would own he did not once think an in depth hypothesis of telepathic magic text to be one of them.

"Please, it's Derek. I am no longer of the order as I have been told that my ideas will get the better of me. They've eased me into a nice early retirement," Derek replied, his tone still polite but with an edge of bitterness that made Malcolm wonder.

"Yes, well I can guess that your kind of retirement and ours doesn't end the same way," Malcolm replied, forgetting his manners which made Quentin snicker.

"Indeed. But that is why I am here and so are you. I want to help the mages," Derek replied, a small smile on his face as he stared at Malcolm.

"You… do?" Malcolm asked, unsure of what to make of such an odd statement, especially coming from a former templar.

"I do. Mages have so much potential and yet they are wasting away in a tower, all that power tucked away in a tall spire. Magic was meant to serve man, not hide away in a tower quietly researching how to extend the growth rates of elfroot," Derek snorted into his mug.

"You're the first templar I've ever heard say that," Quentin finally spoke, although his expression emitted one of utmost distrust of the man. Malcolm inhaled deeply with concern; he had prayed that Quentin would be long gone at the mere mention of the word templar because of recent events.

"There are more like me. I've been putting together a group of people, some very much like you," Derek said, a polite smile contrasting with his steel grey eyes. Malcolm could tell this man had seen a lot of battles and most likely the majority of them with mages. It irked him that an ex-templar would have such a revolutionary view to magic.

"And what is the intention?" Malcolm asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Pardon?" Derek replied, as though he was confused by such a simple question.

"Your intention. I doubt you've gathered apostates and ex-templars and whoever else just for us to march to the Ferelden circle and petition world freedom for the mages and maybe a couple of sacks of gold each to boot? I could use some new attire since I've been wearing some villager's hand me downs for Maker knows how many weeks!" Malcolm exclaimed, shocking himself.

Quentin snickered at Malcolm's rebellious outburst but Derek's face stayed frozen in the polite smile the man had been wearing for at least half an hour now.

"Oh, I can tell why you were one of the few that got out of your circle Malcolm, you're a clever man. No, we cannot ask for all the mages to be freed and we do not have the man power to do it. Mages must be monitored, temptations can turn to demons and I assume you know the rest. But mages could do so much more! Before I was retired, there was an escape from my circle. An apostate man ran away with one of my fellow templars, and not just a recruit, a high ranking officer. We started to search for them, but with no phylactery it took a great deal of time. When we eventually caught up with the fugitives we apprehended the templar who forced our hand and was executed. The apostate was obviously distressed at the situation and with one flick of his wrist destroyed an entire regiment of templars, leaving myself and a few others to only just escape. Most would be disgusted, the rest of the survivors were. I, however, was not. I was fascinated by the power of one mage, how that one apostate took down at least thirty templars with one motion of a body part," Derek said, staring at Malcolm the entire time.

"So you think blood magic and murder is beauty? I fear we do not share the same cause," Malcolm replied, his voice quiet as he tried to not betray his disturbed mind.

"I believe blood magic can be useful, all magic can. But that is beside the point. What if we lived in a world where the Circles permitted more freedom because mages worked alongside templars? Mages that aided the templars in the search for their kin? Working for the cause rather than against it, they could be allowed outside of the Circle? A select few of course, not all. But I know for a fact if there was a mage aiding us that day the fight would have been even. The reason mages are so feared is because of their overwhelming potential and power. Imagine a world where mages are respected for their gifts? They could have families, jobs!" Derek said his voice almost euphoric.

"And the catch is? Surely no one will let mages that could be tempted aid templars in their duties?" Quentin asked, his voice quiet as he took in the information. Malcolm felt the same too, it was everything he had ever dreamed of yet it seemed far too good to be true. And with strong ideas and dreams like these coming from an ex-templar he knew there was cause to worry. They would never loosen their leash so easily.

"The catch is Malcolm Hawke. And his research. We cannot allow novice mages outside of the tower's reach, it could potentially make the templars' jobs twice as hard. It takes a great deal of time to become such an accomplished mage, not all mages are like you both. The magic radiating off of you both is like a beacon! And we could not possibly ask the elderly mages to join us; old age is for recalling battles not living them. But if we could transfer memories, willpower and other things that could safeguard a mage from temptations and potentially give them knowledge that could surpass even their superiors!" Derek said, staring straight at Malcolm with a wide smile.

"The lyrium!" Malcolm shouted in realisation.

"Precisely! No one has come anywhere close to your theory and research, Malcolm! Of course there will have to be a selection process like there is with the Templar Order! But imagine it! You hold the answer to the mages' problems! You hold the key Malcolm. I need you, we need you," Derek said, extending a hand.

Malcolm stared down at the hand for a second. His life had all of a sudden taken a drastic turn for the better but he prided himself in being a pessimist and there was something about Derek's smile that told him he hid his true motives.

"What of the precautions? Your idea has flaws, Derek," Malcolm said slowly, still looking down at the hand that offered him everything he wanted right now.

"There will be precautions; there will have to be precautions. I think of myself as a realist. This could give mages a better life rather than wasting away in a tower. You have two choices, join our cause and aid us in making mages better whilst having the necessary tools to do this or walk away. You will not be hunted by us," Derek replied, the same cold yet warm smile painted on his face.

Malcolm knew he could make this world a better place.

He shook Derek's hand and smiled at him for a moment. Derek returned the smile but the moment was soon interrupted by Quentin.

"And what about me? I obviously don't have the right field of research for your cause," Quentin said in a slightly bitter tone.

"Granted your research is not a part of our cause but it is still useful nonetheless. And you are an extremely skilled mage; you would be extremely useful to us regardless of your own research. But you must put it aside to aid us when necessary," Derek said, looking down at Quentin who was still sitting in his chair. Quentin's jaw gritted as he mulled over his options.

"If I join your cause will I still be hunted?" Quentin asked quietly, looking down at his hands.

"No, you will not have to fear templars whilst under our protection," Derek said, casting the other mage a worried glance. Derek had his suspicions about Quentin that was for sure.

"Then I will join you and aid you in whatever possible," Quentin said as he stood up and shook Derek's hand briefly.

"I look forward to working with the both of you."


End file.
